Devil May Cry  Mercury Rising
by Albion Mercury
Summary: A few years after losing his brother, Dante is hired by a stranger who sends him on a very strange mission. He makes several new allies, who need his help to save the world. Rated M for language, violence and nightmare fuel.
1. Eye of the Storm

**Chapter One**

**Eye Of The Storm  
**

_Devil May Cry office, Metropolis, USA_

_8:24 PM _

A slight creak came from the wooden door as he opened it, revealing the way into a rather disheveled office. There were a couple of empty pizza boxes on the floor, some demon skulls hanging on the wall, and numerous posters and magazines filled with pictures of scantily-clad women. It had been a relatively quiet weekend for Dante, as nobody had called on him to deal with some other demon problem. He sort of liked it this way, after spending the week chasing down cannon fodder. It was a demanding job, and he never knew when he'd get another call. Not that he minded or anything; the jobs paid very well most of the time and the fights were always exciting. That was the reason, above any other, that Dante fought like he did. Nothing was more exhilarating than a fight with a demon who could potentially kill him. Today, though, it was time to chill out. It was, to Dante, his day off.

The devil hunter kicked up his feet onto his desk, careful to avoid knocking over the portrait of his mother that he kept on his desk. Eva, Dante's mother, was a beautiful young woman, with a glimmer of hopeful, nurturing wisdom in her eyes. She was the human half of the parentage of the half-devil Sons of Sparda, and rightly so. Only a woman as graceful and nurturing as her could have been fit to be the mate of the Legendary Dark Knight. Her portrait, and the amulet around his neck, were the last vestiges of her life that Dante had. It was his love for his mother that drove Dante to do what he did. It would eventually, one day, culminate into Dante fighting Mundus, the demon king who had a hand in his mother's death. His thoughts now would drift to his twin brother, Vergil. The same brother who, three years ago, plunged into the Demon World, apparently to fight Mundus himself. Vergil still had not returned. It was the moment of parting that set off the events which would inspire Dante to name his establishment.

As if to break him from that thought, the door of his office swung open. There in front of him stood a strange individual, a man seemingly in his late twenties. He stood about the same height as Dante, and was clothed in the clean black garb of a Catholic priest, complete with a clerical collar. The skin that was shown, that of his face and hands, was a milky pale, in contrast to Dante's healthy, slightly tanned, complexion. It wasn't a sickly pale at all, though, more like the pale of someone who came from northern Europe. Enhancing this alabaster was a shoulder-length cascade of dark hair, secured tightly in the back, at the nape of the priest's neck, in a ponytail. The most memorable detail of the man was his face. Narrow eyes with hazel-green irises highlighted the minister's mien, giving way to a slightly pointed, sharp nose, and thin, pale lips which sat above a pointed chin and weak jaw.

Dante gave the man a raised brow in response to his appearance and peered over his desk at the priest. "...Well, well, what do we have here? Man of the cloth or somethin'. You got business?"

"Yes, in fact, I do," came the reply of the priest. It was a firm reply, but he had an oddly gentle voice and his lips were bent into a rather clever smirk. The voice itself bore a distinct French accent. "Am I correct in assuming your name is Dante?"

"The one and only," The devil hunter responded, the ever-present cocky smirk across his lips. _Sweet, _the devil hunter thought, _If this guy's a priest, the job's bound to be good. I've never had a guy from the Church ask me for help. _

The priest bowed in a rather aristocratic manner, his arm bent before him at his chest. "It is a pleasure to meet you, _Fils du Sparda._ My name is Dimitri Lenoir." It was clear from the priest, Dimitri's, mannerisms that he was foreign. He seemed amicable and trustworthy, however. After his bow of greeting, he extended his hand.

Dante extended his own, shaking that of the priest. For such a gentle-looking man, Dimitri had a rather firm grip. There was something strange about him, and Dante could feel it. _This is odd...I practically smell the demon coming off this guy. I guess he's wearing some kind of cologne. Eau-de-Diable or something. Either that, or it's just because he's French. Heh...Eau-de-Diable. I gotta remember that. It's funny. _Dante could also perceive, from the priest's appearance, that he was rather wealthy for a seemingly simple man of the cloth. Dimitri was quite a well-groomed man, appearances kept in check. Even his priest's garb, which was supposed to be, according to protocol, a rather humble garment, was quite opulent-looking. It was made of an exquisite weave of black, with silver accents on the buttons. The tab collar was clearly made of fine white silk. The half-devil's attention would next be caught by the priest's mode of transportation: a Porsche sports car. If this clergyman could afford a car of that prestige, he was definitely apt to pay a grand sum for any work Dante could do. Stepping out from behind his desk, the devil hunter casually slid a thumb into the pocket of his red leather pants and a smirk traced his lips. "So, what brings you here, Reverend?" he inquired, always ready to tackle any challenge.

The priest clasped his hands at his waist, his hazel eyes peering over the rims of his thin glasses. "Well, Monsieur Dante, I would like you to act in alliance with another demon hunter I have chartered. The last I saw of her, she was fighting a large band of demons alone near a place called 'Ave Maria'."

Dante listened carefully to the priest's job offer, but he was about to refuse when he mentioned acting in alliance with someone. Dante didn't take kindly to working with others. At least, not until he heard "her." He was going to be working with a woman. Of course, when it came to Dante's mind, nothing got his attention more than money or women. _Oh man. This is too good. A filthy rich priest walks in here and tells me to help a lady in distress. Can this get any better? _"Hey, Father, what does this lady look like?" _I hope she's hot, _Dante thought. _That'll make this job even better for the taking._

Dimitri proceeded to rummage through the inner pocket of his coat, pulling out a small photograph, apparently of the woman. She had a square face, with a strong jaw and chin, and high cheekbones. She looked Caucasian in origin, as could be told by her white skin tone. Her hair was a dusty brown and pulled back into a braid that fell to the middle of her back. Her eyes were a hazy green, and her expression seemed not to be carved into warm flesh, but into cold stone. She bore a rather unsettling, hard look in her eyes.

However, by Dante's judgment the woman was quite the catch. Almost without hesitation, Dante took the picture from the priest and a smirk traced his lips as he thought about its subject. "Alright, Rev. You got yourself a deal. You come along and keep watch, I'll do the rest."

Not at all surprised at the devil hunter's reaction, a gentle nod came from the priest and he held out his hand once again, Dante shaking it. "I knew you were the right man for the job, Monsieur Dante." He exited the establishment with the half-devil. "We will be taking my car to the location, if that is alright."

_He's givin' me a ride in that fancy car? Man, this day just keeps getting better and better! Now all I need to do is find this chick, save her, get my check and take her out on the town. This is my lucky day._ With the image of the woman on his mind, Dante took hold of his pistols and holstered them, as well as making sure to bring Rebellion, his sword, with him. As a sort of afterthought, he ran his hands through his hair, examining himself in Dimitri's side mirror. "Alright...We're good to go." He vaulted the side of the convertible, landing squarely in the passenger's seat. The priest took a running jump from the sidewalk and didn't even vault the side. He leapt into the driver's side, starting the car. Dante didn't waste the moment. "This is a damn sweet ride for a priest." The half-devil adjusted his seat, his trademark cocky smirk upon his lips once again.

_Outside Ave Maria office_

_8:49 PM_

A neon sign was lit above the door of the building, the words "Ave Maria" lit in green neon lights marking the location, with angel wings, also in neon, spread behind them. A small band of demons had gathered near the building, apparently assailing a young woman. The woman seemed to be able to fight on her own, wielding a white-handled katana as her only weapon. Even with several cuts in her body from their claws, she still fought like she didn't have so much as a scratch. Several slashes of the katana later, two of the demons in the band of about fifteen fell. The woman backed up against the wall of the establishment, cornered by the demon gang. Bullets of perspiration dripped down her temples as her hands, wrapped in fingerless black gloves, tightened around the handle of her blade. "Alright..." she growled under her breath. "Come and get some!" she yelled toward the demons, her voice carrying a distinct Australian accent under it. Several demons took up the challenge, only to receive a wave of energy from the woman's blade. "Deipara!" she cried out, taking out three or four more demons. Another wave attacked her, one snatching at the rosary beads around her neck. It screeched at her, the waves piercing her hearing and nearly paralyzing her, upon which the demon stood over her, its large foot, thickly clawed like a raptor's talon, prepared to cut her to death.

The demon let out a screech of pain, pulling away from her. Gunshots were heard at the same time, their sound heralding the arrival of a stranger in red. He twirled his guns in both hands, one black, one white, Ebony and Ivory. The owner of the guns stood there, both the firearms in his hands pointed up to the throng of demons. The crisp evening wind blew through his silver hair and his crimson coat as he leapt into the air, spinning like a top as he rained shots down upon some demons that were further from the woman, minding her position so he would not hurt her.

She quickly got back to her feet, driving her katana into a demon's neck and twisting it, decapitating the beast. When the last of the accosting demons was killed, her gaze fell upon the man in red. "...Who the hell are you?" she inquired, a defiant look in her green eyes. She kept her katana at the ready, not caring that this man saved her life.

He responded with a cocky laugh, sliding Ebony and Ivory into his back holsters. "Heh...You ever heard of Dante, the demon hunter from around here?"

The brown-haired woman gave a curt nod, twirling her katana and sheathing it. "Yeah, what about the guy?" From the jaded sound in her accented voice, Dante could tell that the woman was none too impressed with him or the stories about him.

He placed his hand on his chest, patting it a little. "You're lookin' at him, babe. And you should really thank me, seeing as I helped save you from being torn apart. A date would suffice as thanks," he replied with a roguish wink. "So what's your name, or can I just call ya 'Babe'?"

The look she gave him in response was not one of amusement. She was reticent to speak, but finally did, and her voice was like a knife of ice cutting through Dante's heart. "...Date? With you? You're a real gas, mate. You're funny." The chilly Australian woman gave Dante a rather glacial rebuff, turning away from him. "For future reference, if you absolutely must know...the name's Mercy."

_Ouch, _the devil hunter thought to himself, _At least she told me her name. I didn't even think I'd get that far. Well, at least that means it's not completely out of the question._ Somehow, even after the cold rejection, Dante still believed he still had a chance with her. Of course, from the thought of what that priest would pay him, any woman, even an ice queen like Mercy, wouldn't be able to resist. _Damn it! That's right! My paycheck! I gotta help this babe, or I don't get one red cent! Come on, Dante...think of something! _Dante coughed a bit, reaching out and placing his gloved hand on the brunette's bare shoulder. "Hey now, wait a minute there. I was sent here by a guy who knows you. And he wants me to make sure you get through whatever it is you're doing all right."

The demon hunter turned her head, grabbing hold of Dante's hand and moving it off her shoulder. "...Who is this...guy? Everyone who I've worked with knows I hate working with others." Her voice was still frigid, her disposition still forbidding.

_Come on, babe...you're killin' me here!_ Not about to give up that quickly, he decided to reveal to her the name of his client. "His name's Dimitri. About as tall as me, long black hair, wears glasses, drives a Porsche...Ring any bells yet?" From the look on her face which turned from a frosty glare to a look of slight interest, Dante could tell the acquaintance was mutual. "Friend of yours or somethin'?" he asked, idly twirling Ebony in his hand.

Mercy didn't make eye contact with Dante yet, but kept her hand lightly resting on her hip. "Yeah. I know him. But if he's so worried about me, why didn't he come himself instead of hiring you as his errand boy?"

_Ouch again. This one's feisty, Dante. Just play it cool. All I've gotta do is win her over, get on her good side, help the lady out, get my reward...Jackpot. _Dante urged himself to focus on the job at hand, reminding himself he wasn't going to get anywhere if this girl didn't let him work with her. He had to think of a reason why Dimitri would choose to send him, rather than do it himself. Finally, he came to what, in his mind, was a logical explanation. "Well...I offered to do it. Couldn't help but do so when a lady's in trouble. It's just...who I am, babe."

The brunette's cold green eyes made their way to meeting Dante's, a marked silence filling the air for a couple of seconds.

"Hey Casanova! Why don't ya focus on what's around ya instead of tryin' to flirt with me?" Mercy's voice was loud, but she directed Dante's eyes to a horde of demons descending on them from the rooftop of Ave Maria.

_Oh. Damn, I forgot about that._ _Ah, well. _"Let's rock!" It was second nature at this point for him, having done this as far back as he could remember. Dante drew his guns lightning-quick, dropping to the ground and rolling over to dodge an arrow flung from a demonic bow above. "Heh. Shoulda known they weren't gonna be done with us just like that. So how about it, babe? Wanna dance?" he inquired of Mercy as he rose to his feet, his back to her.

Her pale lips curled into a lopsided smirk, her hand reaching behind her back and drawing the katana from her sheath. She soon had her back loosely pressed against Dante's, the tightly-braided rope of chestnut-colored hair resting along her lithe shoulder. "Takes two to tango, mate," she declared, tightening her gloved hands around the hilt of the blade in their grasp. With this affirmation, she took a fighting stance, briefly stomping the ground to get herself ready. "Alright. Let's go." she spoke a cue, dashing off into the fray, katana raised.

Two demons had their arrows aimed at Mercy from behind, however Dante's eye was sharp enough to catch them. "Hey! Babe! You got company at 5 high!" he called to her in warning, before turning to a band of smaller demons on the ground. Taking Rebellion from its position on his back, he rushed forward and stabbed into one of them, rapidly hitting it several times with the tip of the blade. "Break down!" His final strike knocked the demon onto its back, where he finished it off with a well-placed shot from Ebony.

Mercy gave her fellow devil hunter a brief glance, secretly impressed with his moves. Not sparing time for distractions, she curled her fingertips tightly around the grip of her pistol. She turned her glance away from the demons on the roof, giving them the visual cue that her guard was down and she was fair game.

With arrows drawn, the two Enigmas prepared to snipe the huntress. Their eyes flashed, giving each other the signal, and they fired both arrows at once. The arrows flew fast as lightning, reaching mere inches from Mercy's back before she twisted around, dropping to the ground and letting the arrows sail over her head, picking off two cannon-fodder demons Dante was in the process of gunning down.

"That's it...you pikers wanna dance?" Her gloved right hand moved behind her back, drawing her katana. "Then let's dance! Better hope ya can keep up!" She drew her katana up and dashed with blinding speed at one of the demons that had come down to attack her at short range. This would be a fatal mistake, as no sooner had the demon rushed Mercy than her katana found its way into the demon's chest.

Dante was involved in a one-on-four match with a set of rather strong demons with long, menacing swords for arms. They had managed to actually become a challenge for him to take on all at once. Three of them approached him, their arms up ready to attempt to skewer him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the fourth sneaking up on Mercy from behind. Thrashing through the trio surrounding him with Ebony in one hand and Ivory in the other, he prepared himself to attack the Hell Vanguard that was preparing to lance the huntress. He squeezed the triggers in quick succession, burying a pair of bullets from Ebony and Ivory into the demon's back. It screeched in pain, nearly dropping its lance. Dante seized the moment and prepared to attack.

A sudden fireball flashed through the air, striking the scythe-wielding demon head-on. It let out a shrill scream before the fireball burst into a firestorm and engulfed the demon, reducing it to ash. Dante had shielded his eyes from the flash of fire, and he was left wondering where the strange blast came from. Tilting his head to the side, he stared off into the distance. There were, fortunately, none left of the small group of demons who menaced the Ave Maria. However, he could see something in the distance approaching him and Mercy.

His keen demon eyesight could see that a figure was standing several yards away, and he caught the glint of a blade under the flickering streetlight. Keeping Ebony and Ivory at the ready, he dashed forward and rushed at the figure. "If you're here to hurt Mercy, you'll have to come through me first, bud." Both of his guns were raised and pointed at the figure, but the stranger didn't so much as flinch.

"Trigger-happy, ain't ye?" The voice of the figure was heard next, with a marked Scottish accent. It was gruff, deep in pitch, but distinctly female. Upon the mention of Mercy's name, the woman advanced and Dante could clearly make out some features on her face. She had bronzed skin, her cheekbones high and her jaw bearing a clearly chiseled triangular shape, much like a triangle with one point cut off at her chin. Her nose was broad, but unusually sharp and her eyes were wide-set and had a dark copper color to them. Her hair was dark and twisted into tight dreadlocks, tinged ruby red at the tips. As she approached, Dante could see that she was taller than he was by some margin. He was an even six feet tall, and the black woman had to be at least 6'3''. He caught her full lips parting slightly, displaying the gleam of her teeth in a sort of lopsided grin. "Ya know Merce, eh?" Her gruff, accented voice could be heard again, this time speaking directly to Dante. He could see her posture now; She had a sort of lazy slouch in her walk, a large sword strapped to her back not unlike his own Rebellion. She didn't seem malicious at all, so he decided to respond.

His cocky air making its way to the surface, he twirled Ivory on his finger before sliding it into one of his back holsters. "Yeah. We just met." Dante took a cool stroll toward the woman, sizing her up with his eyes. She was clad in a set of slightly baggy red pants, a tight, midriff-baring black halter, and most notably a set of heavy black combat boots. Her arms were considerably muscled, as if she did heavy lifting on a regular basis. A slight cringe came to the devil hunter as a thought ran through his mind. _Who is this woman? If I was a normal guy I swear she could take my head off with one punch. Heh heh...Lucky for me, I'm no normal guy._ Keeping his ever-present cocky demeanor, he approached her with his lazy, strolling gait, showing he wasn't a threat. "So...what's your name, babe?"

"Name's Lawrence Forsyth. Me mates call me Lori."

_Lori, huh?_ Dante gave a chuckle and looked up as he noticed Mercy approaching the group after finishing off the last of the demons. Dante was able to notice something odd about the black woman, Lori. _She's a demon too, and a damn strong one at that. Even I might get a run for my money with this one. _He could see a smirk fall across Mercy's lips as she saw Lori.

"Hey!" She gave a yell from behind, running toward the tall black woman, her left palm slapping into Lori's. It was clear the two not only knew each other, they were friends.

Feeling no need to keep up his guard, Dante slid Ebony into his holster and looked toward Lori, a cool smirk on his lips. "So...you ever heard of a guy named Dante?" He seemed to have a habit of asking that lately, but he got a much more open response from Lori.

"Aye, I think I've heard of the bloke. Ain't he that one, that...demon hunter guy?"

Dante's smirk grew wider, and he seemed impressed. "Heh, yeah. That's him." He looked rather proud of himself, especially that someone knew who he was. This wasn't such a bad day after all. It was then that he heard the gloved knuckles of the black woman being cracked.

"Oi, if you see the bloke an' he's got some free time, tell 'im the barkeep from the Checkmate night club wants a square go."

_The hell's a square go? Must be Scot-speak or somethin'. _Dante found himself struggling to make sense of the strange argot used by the woman with the Scottish accent. He gave a glance to Mercy, who was leaning on the wall of the Ave Maria with her head tilted. "Uh...Merce, what's a square go?" he muttered in her direction.

"Means she wants to fight."

_Oh, _Dante thought. _Heh, shoulda known._ "Wait...why would she wanna fight me?" he asked out loud, not knowing Lori was standing a few feet away.

"...So. You're the famous Dante, eh?" She clapped him on the shoulder with her powerful hand, the force of which nearly threw him off balance. It was a friendly gesture, but nearly knocked Dante onto his face.

"Whoa!" Dante flailed for a moment to regain his balance, almost glaring at Lori. "Hey, watch it!"

The black woman laughed nervously and rubbed the back of her neck. "Heh...guess I dunno my own strength."

Mercy, during this encounter, was just leaning on a wall while Dante and Lori spoke to one another. "Lori, when you're done goofing off..." she chided, almost grumbling at her comrade.

Lori slumped, her shoulders sinking as she scratched the back of her head. "Oh, alright already. Don't get yer knickers in a knot."

Mercy looked up from her position on the wall, making eye contact with Lori as she approached her. "So, where ya headed?" she inquired, keeping her arms crossed as she walked.

Lori folded her arms behind her head, lazily ambling down the block. "Headin' down to the Checkmate."

The name of the "Checkmate" establishment, whatever it was, seemed to ring a bell in Dante's head. "Checkmate...Ain't that the new club down the street from here?" he inquired curiously.

"Yup, that'd be it," Lori affirmed, a smirk on her lips as she continued walking, Mercy and Dante behind her.

Dante ruminated for a moment at Lori's response, his head slightly tilted in curiosity. _I wonder..._"Hey Lori, I've got a question."

"Shoot," Lori gave her quick reply, upon which the devil hunter gave her his inquiry.

"Do you guys serve strawberry sundaes?"

He was met with Lori's signature, slightly gruff, chuckle. "Of course we do! You name it, I've got it." _Awesome! I've gotta check this place out!_ That reply gave Dante what he thought was a stroke of genius.

"Hey Merce," he spoke, attempting to get Mercy's attention.

She turned her head to make eye contact with him, the look of chilly ennui not leaving her eyes. "Whaddya want?" she asked in reply to Dante's address of her.

He walked a few inches closer to her, his lips curling into a slight smirk. "Since we're already on the way there, what do you say to you and me havin' a date over dinner? My treat." _Brace yourself, Dante, she's gonna shoot you down again. Ah well, if at first you don't succeed._

"I don't see why not." Mercy gave her quick response without any deliberation. "You did give me a hand after all."

Dante acted like he expected an affirmative, but in reality he was quite surprised. _Whoa. Is she for real? Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, dude. You got the babe, now what do you think you're gonna do with her? _The devil hunter looked toward Mercy, the ever-present cocky grin spread across his lips. He took her hand, and looked up to Lori, who was walking ahead of them. "So, care to lead the way?"

She turned her head back toward him, her tightly-woven dreadlocks gathering behind her ear. "Aye. It's a few blocks away but you two seem like you'll make it." Dante responded with a smirk and a nod, walking with Mercy to catch up with Lori.

They suddenly heard a strange growling sound, which prompted Mercy to draw her sword and take a fighting stance. Dante looked around and listened for a moment, before realizing just what was making that sound. He motioned to Mercy to calm down.

"Relax, Merce. I'm just a little hungry." He slid a hand over his stomach, the source of the unearthly rumbling.

The Australian demon hunter gave a slight chuckle, and looked to Dante. "In that case, let's get goin'. Whatever craving you got, Lori can take care of ya." She turned to walk down the street, following Lori as she led them to their destination.

From a rooftop far above them, set of golden eyes peered down through the darkness and settled upon the trio as they passed by on the streets below. "So, brother...you're enlisting _his_ help," he spoke in a slow whisper, to no one in particular. "I didn't think you would be _that_ desperate." The pair of eyes belonged only to a shadow, lurking in the darkness of the night and observing Dante much like a hawk observing its potential prey. "In any case...prepare yourself, Son of Sparda. This," he continued, "is only the beginning." A foreboding wind picked up from the top of the building, blowing through the figure's dark hair. A smirk traced across his thin, livid lips, which parted into a savage rictus. "Mm. for now, though, I'll let you be." The figure continued staring at Dante and the others, watching them until Dante disappeared into the Checkmate.

Another pair of eyes, also golden, peered down from the rooftop of the Ave Maria. "The dice have been cast. Dear Alice, do not let yourself grow too calm. This is only the eye of the storm."


	2. The Devil's Luck

**Chapter Two **

**The Devil's Luck**

_Checkmate_

_9:15 PM _

The cool neon glow of the red and yellow chess pieces lit up the otherwise dark shop front. The name of the club was illuminated in a font reminiscent of fire. Dante gave a small whistle, looking up at the building that was so much larger than his shop. Of course, the Checkmate was also a night club. It didn't seem to be the typical seedy dive bar, at least from what Dante could see. The entire building stretched up several floors, with only the ground floor seeming to be the actual club. Damn. Nice digs for a club, Dante thought. He looked up as he watched Lori open the door, allowing him and Mercy to enter.

The inside of the club was rather brightly lit, and the sounds of rock music and people talking filled the room. It was moderately crowded on the dance floor, at a few tables, and at the bar itself. There weren't enough people there to put Dante off, but there were enough to convince him the place was popular. The floor was covered in a black and white checkerboard tile pattern until one looked over to the dance floor. The dance floor itself was illuminated with many colored lights that pulsed at varying speeds. Dante wasn't really the type to hit the dance floor. He'd often just sit where he was and let the beautiful women come to him. The Checkmate was even more impressive from the inside. It was a step below an exclusive club with a velvet rope and a step above a cheap dive.

Behind the counter Dante could see the door to the kitchen as well as several casks and several hundred bottles of various sorts of alcohols, many of them with names he couldn't hope to pronounce. He took a seat at an empty spot at the bar, looking around to his sides. There was one empty seat to his right. _Perfect,_ he thought before patting the seat and looking to Mercy, giving her a devilish wink. He said nothing, only letting his lips draw into a playful smirk.

Mercy made eye contact with the half-devil. She hesitated for a moment before wandering up to the seat and sitting down, leaning on the bar. She was tilted slightly away from him, as if making it known that she wasn't willing to get within contact distance. The position of the seats didn't allow her to get much further away. _Brace yourself, Mercy. This bloke is gonna flirt with you at every opportunity. Stay cool, _she reminded herself. She glanced up to the bar as she saw Lori walking by in the back. _Man, I could use a drink._ She gave a loud whistle, causing Lori to look up and head over.

"You rang, Merce?" the bartender asked, grabbing a glass from a cabinet above.

"Aye, mate. Think you could do me with some tequila?" Mercy replied, pulling out a calculator and putting in some figures, apparently completely ignoring Dante.

Lori nodded and grabbed a bottle from the shelf, pouring a glass of it on ice and sliding it to Mercy with a lemon wedge affixed on the lip. "There ya go. I'll put it on yer tab." The Scot snorted to herself, leaning on a wall and rolling her eyes. _Your tab is three hundred bucks, Merce. You better pay me back one of these days._ She muttered to herself inaudibly before grabbing a bottle of single malt scotch and pouring herself a glass, downing it in nearly one gulp.

Mercy slowly sipped her tequila, giving a slight shudder at the drink's burn in her throat. "Gah..." she groaned, "I'll never get used to that." She leaned on the bar and took another sip, glancing over to Dante. "Oi, mate. Thanks for earlier."

Dante kept wearing his roguish grin as he listened to Mercy, turning toward her and subtly sliding his hand towards her shoulder. "Not a problem at all, babe." _Keep it smooth, Dante. Time to crank up the charm._ He gave her a wider smirk, letting a slightly pointed fang peek out from between his lips. "How could I resist a job working with a good-lookin' lady who needed help?" He suddenly stopped moving his hand.

Before he could get his hand within distance, his stomach had let out a sudden and rather loud rumble that could be heard over the background noise. He pulled his hand back to himself, placing it on his stomach. _Note to self. Get some chow before you try to get some action. _He looked up to see Mercy staring at him, eyes slightly widened and an awkward expression on her face. "Oh. Right. I guess I really am starving."

"I'll say," Mercy quipped dryly, giving another whistle to call Lori over before taking another sip of her tequila. _Honestly, wanker. Are you really that desperate to root me? _She rolled her eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh.

Lori approached the two, polishing off the remnants of a bottle of Laphroaig. "What are ya after, lad?" she asked in Dante's direction, already heating up her pizza stone.

"I'll take a large pizza. Classic style crust, prosciutto, garlic potatoes and peppers. No olives." _If she can do that, this place is gonna be at the top of my list. _"And can you get me a pint with it?" This was a bar, after all. Why go to a bar if one wasn't going to get a drink?

The black woman nodded to Dante, getting out a pizza crust and other items to add to it. "Gotcha. It'll be ready in fifteen." She put the pie in the oven, shutting it and letting it cook. "I figured you'd be after pizza. You seem like the type. _Just like the Chief, _she thought. _Except she always wants the meats with pineapple and Guinness._ She hummed to herself as the pizza cooked, looking over to watch Dante and Mercy.

Dante's eyes drifted over to Mercy, who was still looking at him like a large cancerous growth just grew out of his forehead. He tried to downplay the awkwardness of the situation. He could barely keep his mind off how hungry he was. He could smell the pizza cooking all the way out behind the bar, and didn't even notice one of the group of men nearby occasionally glancing at him and staring at Mercy.

Mercy, on the other hand, eyed the leering male suspiciously when she felt eyes on her. _Can I not go anywhere without some bloke wantin' to get in my pants?_ She turned her eyes away from the stranger, trying to give him a nonverbal but clear rejection. She attempted to focus on her tequila and not on the desperate congregation of lounge lizards. Unconsciously, she inched a bit closer to Dante. Even he seemed to have more respect for her than they did.

Dante's attention was drawn immediately by Lori, who had just set the fresh pizza down in front of him, along with a fresh pint of beer. "Have at it, hot shot. It's on me." She gave him a smirk and a nod, which he gave in return. She went back to her work, refilling Mercy's glass of tequila and heading back to the kitchen.

Dante took a moment to check the pizza. Everything was there, just the way he had ordered it. _Ah man. I don't know if it's just because I'm famished, but this pizza smells so good right now. _He carefully picked up a slice, lifting it to his lips. Hesitating for a moment, he slowly inhaled and took in the pizza's aroma before biting into the slice. As he let the pie's flavor sink in, his lips bent into a slight grin and he took another, larger bite. Before long he had consumed the entire slice, and was working on his second. It, too, was gone in minutes. The next few slices went the same way, followed by a sip of the lager sitting on the bar in front of him.

Mercy's eyes shifted a bit as she watched Dante eating his dinner. A devious little smirk appeared on her thin lips before she reached out to grab a slice of Dante's pizza. As she did so, however, a hand rested on top of hers and prevented it from moving.

"Whoa. Not so fast, babe." Dante deftly pulled her hand up, sliding it back toward her and leaning in close with a playful grin. He noticed Mercy eyeing the slice of pizza like a puppy waiting for table scraps. "Sorry. It's too good to share."

Mercy raised an eyebrow, having just seen Dante polish off seven slices of a large pizza on his own. "I'm amazed you can eat that much of it by yourself as it is." She maneuvered around a bit, trying to get past Dante with her quick reflexes and seize the remaining slice. Dante pinned her other hand down with his free one, leaning even closer to her.

"It's just one of my many talents," he replied, his playful smirk becoming a bit more cocky as he slowly pulled Mercy away from the last slice. _It's at least one of the better parts of being a demon. I can live off this stuff and never gain a pound. This is the life. _He chuckled to himself before making eye contact with Mercy. "...among other things." He punctuated his slight boast by leaning forward and giving Mercy a quick peck on the cheek. When her eyes widened and she stared at him for a moment, he gave her a playful wink.

_What the hell just happened? _Mercy had been rendered completely speechless for a lightly shoved back against Dante, turning around toward the pizza slice. "Besides. You eat that last slice and you won't have room for dessert. You know, a strawberry sundae?" She responded to him with a smirk, not breaking eye contact. _This is it,_ she thought. _This'll get him for sure. _

Dante's grin only widened before he chuckled at her warning. "You don't know me that well, do you, babe?" He slid his hand onto her arm, carefully pulling her back up on the stool and turning her to face him. "Tell you what. Order what you want and I'll put it on my tab for tonight."

Mercy leaned back, looking as if she was deep in thought. "You've got a deal, mate." She tried, and failed miserably, to stifle the rapidly forming blush on her cheeks. Letting out another whistle, she called Lori over.

Dante reached back over toward his pizza slice, but his hand touched only air. He peered over to the plate with the pizza crumbs on it, and saw only that; the last slice of pizza was gone. _Hey, what the hell! Who the fuck stole my pizza! _He raised his head with a look of annoyance, glancing at Lori. "Did you see who swiped that last slice?"

Lori, gathering several spices for use in a chili bowl, shrugged and shook her head. "Nope. Sorry mate. They musta been fast." She set a few nachos in a bowl before pulling a fresh pot of chili off the stove and pouring it in the bowl over the chips.

Mercy also glanced around, looking for someone carrying a pizza slice with prosciutto and garlic potatoes. "They just...oy," she grunted, turning to Dante with a slightly apologetic look. "Ah, I'm sorry mate. It's my fault." She raised her head as Lori passed over the chili con carne. "It was just one slice anyway. Not like you were missin' out."

Dante grumbled to himself in the manner of a child who had been denied a candy bar. "But damn it, it was_ my _pizza slice." He hung his head slightly and took a sip of his beer. _Whoever swiped it, I owe an ass kicking._ He glanced around for a moment before noticing the small band of rather dim-looking young men nearby and snorting to himself before turning back around. "Hey Lori, I think I'm about ready for that sundae now."

Lori was already pulling ice cream and strawberries from the refrigerator. "Ya seem like the last guy who'd eat strawberry sundaes in a bloody nightclub," she observed, loading up a sundae glass with strawberries, ice cream, more strawberries and some whipped cream and sliding it over to Dante with a small spoon. "Have at it, mate. It's on me."

Dante gave Lori a short nod. "Thanks, man." He ate the dessert rather slowly, sighing to himself as he let his nerves unwind. _Even the sundaes here are good. It's never gonna get old. _He smirked to himself before biting through a strawberry. When he thought no one was looking, that smirk soon turned into a soft smile. He had always loved strawberry sundaes, even since his childhood. Every time he had a particularly good one, it would always take his mind to those days when he was together with his brother and his mother was still alive.

_Sparda Manor_

_Fifteen Years Ago_

"Dante, Vergil, it's time to come inside!"

The twins continued to wrestle on the lawn, with Vergil easily gaining the upper hand on his brother. He had always been quicker than Dante, who loved to show off when they roughhoused as they frequently did. Vergil had pinned Dante down under him, grinning. "Gotcha now! Bet you're sorry you showed off!"

Dante grunted under his brother's hold, sulking a little with a pout on his face. "Hey! Not fair! You always get me!" He maneuvered his hands around under Vergil before pulling one arm up and putting it around Vergil's neck. His other hand came up, snaking out from under Vergil's torso.

Vergil seemed unaware of what Dante was trying to do, and kept grinning at him with a look of superiority. "You're never gonna beat me. I'm the big brother, I always win."

"Boys, come inside or you'll miss dinner!"

Dante's arm became tighter around Vergil's neck, and he dug the knuckles of his other hands into his brother's scalp. "Not this time!" He drilled his knuckles into Vergil's head a few times, messing up his hair. "And I'm the little brother, so Mom loves me more!"

Vergil let out a yelp as his brother continued to noogie him. "Hey! That's cheap! I hate you Dante!" he cried out as he flailed his arms in an attempt to get away from Dante, who by this point had flipped him over so he was the one pinning Vergil down. "And you're a mama's boy anyway."

"Am not!" Dante countered, still holding Vergil in a headlock. He licked his fingertip, aiming it toward Vergil's ear.

"Dante Sparda Redgrave! Did you hear me!"

Dante jumped at the sound of his mother shouting his name. He dropped Vergil on the lawn and looked up to see Eva standing there, her hand on her hip and a rather stern look on her face.

"Both of you get inside. Now." It was clear from the tone in her voice that Eva hated repeating orders. She stood at the front door, leaning on the door with her arms crossed and waiting.

Dante pulled himself up and went running for the door, Vergil right behind. "Last one there's a rotten egg!" he yelled at his brother as the two barreled toward the door, nearly knocking Eva over.

Eva sighed softly as the boys ran by, looking up and watching them as they went in to go get cleaned up for dinner. In the rare moment of quiescence, she smiled solemnly and looked up, looking as though her mind was heavy with thought. She turned her gaze to one of several portraits on the mantelpiece. The picture depicted Sparda and herself in an embrace, his arms around her from behind, and she was visibly pregnant. Internally she fought back tears, distracted by the ruckus she heard upstairs.

Dante and Vergil came thundering down the stairs, racing to the table and sitting down. By the time they got there, Eva was already setting their meals in front of them. Dante devoured everything like it was going to rot away right there on the plate. Vergil had a steadier, neater pace, but ate just as much, if not more. He peered over the table at Dante, who was scarfing down more slices of pizza than an eight year old child should be able to eat. "Pizza again?" he asked, rolling his eyes.

Dante swallowed a mouthful of pizza and grinned at his brother. "Why not? It's not like we_ need_ those nasty vegetables you're eating." He stopped speaking long enough to finish off a slice.

Vergil grunted at Dante before eating a bit more of his own dinner, which had multiple varieties of said so-called nasty vegetables. Vergil couldn't stand all that cheese and sauce Dante loved to pile on his pizzas. He despised pizza in general and much preferred to eat for the sake of his health. The vegetables Eva made were actually rather palatable; she managed not to overcook them.

Before long, both twins had cleaned their plates. Dante picked up his plate and left the table, putting it in the sink. Vergil did the same, but was distracted by a rather appetizing smell coming from the kitchen. He followed the smell, turning the corner just in time to see Eva pulling a small tray out of the oven. The tray was filled with six large and fluffy-looking blueberry muffins. Already on the counter, there was a small tulip glass filled with strawberries and vanilla ice cream. Vergil continued to watch, unseen, as Eva prepared the desserts. After a moment, he darted away to the dining room, grabbing Dante's wrist. "Hey Dante!" he whispered before guiding Dante to the kitchen.

Dante peered around the corner, his jaw dropping when he saw the strawberry sundae. His slacked jaw came back up into a wide grin and he nearly shouted. "Hey Mo-"

"Shh!" Vergil ordered, his hand clamped over Dante's mouth as he pulled him away. "We gotta be quiet or she's notice us. I think she wants it to be a surprise." He held Dante still, watching Eva intently as she let the muffins cool. "I think she's done," he said to Dante in a hushed tone, tugging on his arm. "Let's get back to the dining room before she catches us." He moved rather slowly at first, Dante behind, until they snuck away from the kitchen and back to the dining room, where they both sat down in their original spots.

Dante could not hide his anticipation. He was fidgeting in his seat, his feet twirling slightly under the table as a dead giveaway to his excitement, a habit that carried from his early childhood. _Oh man...I love strawberry sundaes! One of these days when I grow up I'm gonna have pizza and strawberry sundaes every single day! _He had the same ecstatic look on his face as before when he heard Eva coming into the dining room, plate of muffins in one hand and strawberry sundae in the other.

"I bet you boys have been waiting for this all day," she said with a smile as she set the plate of muffins in front of Vergil. The sundae didn't even make it onto the table before Dante had grabbed it in both hands, immediately beginning to eat it.

Vergil took a muffin from the plate, eating it slowly so as to let the flavor last as long as possible. He reached up with a fingertip and brushed some of his hair away from his face, finishing the first muffin and working on the second.

Dante shoveled spoonful after spoonful of strawberry sundae into his mouth, pausing to munch on a particularly large, juicy strawberry. He licked the whipped cream and syrup off his cheek and looked up to see Eva bringing in something else they didn't catch sight of: A chocolate cake decorated with eight small candles, four red and four blue. Dante grinned even wider, looking up at Eva with a bit of ice cream dribbling off his chin. "Wow! Cool!" he exclaimed, getting Vergil's attention.

Vergil dropped the muffin he was holding mid-bite, his eyes going wide at the cake. "It's chocolate, just like I wanted!"

"Just like _you_ wanted? I was the one who wanted the chocolate!" Dante declared, trying to push Vergil aside.

"I want the chocolate!" Vergil replied, trying to make a grab at the cake, which Eva shielded with her arms.

"Boys, boys. Don't fight. You both get the chocolate," Eva assured them with a slightly stern tone in her voice. "But first, you have to make a wish and blow out the candles." She set down the cake in the center of the table as the twins huddled up close.

Vergil took a deep breath, holding it for a moment and closing his eyes. _I know I'll probably never get to see my Dad. But I wish to get really strong like him one day. I wanna be the strongest demon in the whole world. _

Dante leaned in close, also taking a breath and holding it for a moment as he thought of his wish. _I wish for...I wish for...I wish for loads and loads of strawberry sundaes! _He grinned to himself for a moment, still holding his breath.

At the same time, both twins blew as hard as they could on the candles, blowing each of them out. The resulting pressure from their breaths caused a bit of icing to fly off the cake, splattering onto one another's faces and sending them both into fits of laughter. Eva watched both of them, a smile creeping onto her lips. "Dante...Vergil...happy birthday."

The twins didn't seem to hear her, as they both immediately began devouring their cake in addition to their other desserts.

Dante soon finished his cake, and was now working on the remains of his prized sundae. He licked the chocolate off his lips before consuming the last strawberry in the glass. He looked over toward Eva, grinning through the mess on his face. "Thanks, Mom." His tone of voice was rather soft as he picked up a napkin and wiped the mess from his face before pulling himself up and walking over to Eva, sliding his arms around her waist, and pulling her into a firm but gentle embrace, which she returned. "I love you."

"I love you too, Dante..."

_Checkmate _

_Present Day_

_10:30 PM_

Dante slowly finished the last bits of ice cream in his sundae glass, gently picking up the last strawberry with a spoon and biting into it. Along with the amulet on his neck, his favorite dessert was the last connection left to his childhood, to a more innocent time in his life when he was not alone. Even now, though he had a few friends and acquaintances here and there, he still felt like he was on his own at the end of the day. He enjoyed the taste of this particular sundae, but nothing would ever match the ones his mother would make for him. He slowly chewed on the last, juicy bits of the fruit.

"Hey, babe! Why don't ya ditch that nobody? Seems like he's more into that ice cream than he is into you!" The voice from a table away shattered Dante's serene recollection like a bullet to the head. He swallowed the half-chewed strawberry, turning his head to glare at the offender.

He saw a young man who looked to be in his early twenties, only one among several others at the same table. He was rather tanned, and he wore a shirt with short sleeves which bore the muscles of his arms. The collar was opened a bit and its sides raised. His hair was styled in a slightly spiked crew cut, swept up in the front and with its tips frosted. His eyes were obscured by a pair of dark sunglasses. His attention was focused entirely on Mercy, as if Dante wasn't there.

Mercy had finally turned around to confront the one accosting her with a glare even chillier than the one she gave Dante when she first met him. She was equally as unamused as Dante himself. "Because you're nothing special. I mean, look at your mates over there. They all look just like you. That, and you lot are a bunch of try-hard tools." She leaned over and finished off the last of her tequila before crossing her arms in some effort to blow off the apparent leader of the group of lecherous males.

One of the group seemed to be whispering something to the leader, who pulled himself up from his seat and walked over to Mercy with an unctuous leer on his face. "You've got lotsa competition for this. You oughtta feel lucky I've had my eyes on you. And you'd drop me for that ice cream lovin' loser?" He reached out for Mercy's hand and grabbed it, pulling her a bit closer. "By the way, the name's Brett. Remember it, 'cause you'll be screamin' it later tonight." He flashed her a lecherous grin.

Mercy only stood there for a moment before whipping her arm out of the young man's grip and taking a step back, her signature glacial demeanor on full display. _I don't think so, wanker. _She unconsciously inched closer to Dante, her hands at her sides with her fists clenched. She resisted the urge to bristle up when Dante rested his hand on her shoulder.

Dante turned his attention to Brett, the one trying to be his rival. "Hah, I'm a loser? Says the guy who's tryin' _way_ too hard," he replied, glaring at Brett with a look of disgust. _This guy has gotta be kidding me. _He subtly took a step forward, apparently trying to put himself between Mercy and Brett. He broke his glare for a moment by glancing over to Mercy, who was trying to put even more distance between herself and the other male.

Brett did not back off from Dante and Mercy. Rather, he returned Dante's eye contact through the lenses of his oversized, dark sunglasses. "'Course I try. It works every time. I can get any piece of ass I want. What about you?" he asked, leaning back and crossing his arms as he awaited Dante's answer. He looked back to Mercy, giving her a wink that was visible through his sunglasses thanks to the lights above. "Offer's still open, babe."

"...Are you deaf, wanker?" Mercy's look of revulsion now matched Dante's, Brett's actions grinding away at her patience. Her eyes grew narrower as she followed Brett's eyes to their focus on her chest. "I thought so. Let me spell it out for ya then, mate. I know sign language." She paused to raise her free hand, displaying her middle finger in Brett's direction. "_FUCK OFF, DOUCHEBAG._" She kept her hand raised for a moment before bringing the same hand to her face, shaking her head in frustration. _I really, really hope this dipstick gets the message already, _she thought.

Brett's demeanor seemed to change slightly toward Mercy. "Whatever," he grunted, slicking his heavily-gelled hair back. "You're a waste of time anyway. Just some dime-a-dozen skank who don't know the best when she sees it." He grabbed hold of Mercy's tequila and downed the remainder of it, possibly as an affront to her in response to her rejection. With a haughty sneer, he lightly slammed the glass back on the counter.

"More like her standards aren't _that_ low," Dante responded in Mercy's place. He briefly glanced at her, as if to garner her approval of him coming to her defense. She had sat back down, turning her head away from them. Apparently, she was tired of dealing with Brett's effrontery and wanted nothing further to do with him. He turned his attention back to Brett, whose face bore the same sneer. "You don't look too happy, bud."

"Who asked you?" Brett asked indignantly, giving Dante an aggressive glare. He took a step forward, his posture carrying a manner of hostility. He clenched one hand into a fist, tilting his head to the side.

Dante's stance, on the other hand, was much more cavalier. He leaned back, drawing his shoulders into a shrug before sliding his hands into the pockets of his coat. "Just statin' fact. What's up? Pissed that your lame excuse for a pickup didn't work this time?" Despite his initial disgust, Dante maintained a hint of a laid-back smirk just on the corners of his lips as he saw Brett's demeanor become even more combative._ Wow. This guy's even more pathetic than I thought. If he wants a fight, I'll give it to him._

Brett's lips subtly parted, revealing his clenched teeth for a moment. He pulled himself up from his aggressive stance, his sneer returning to his face. "Nah, I'm not that pissed at all. It worked on your mom last night," he answered back with a self-assured grin. His retort to Dante garnered a few hoots and cheers from his companions. He tilted his head again, awaiting Dante's response.

The smirk on Dante's lips suddenly faded from sight and he stood up straight. He clenched his fists at his sides for a moment, narrowing his eyes in a fierce glare directed toward Brett. _That's it! Game over! I'll put up with him ripping on me, but cheap shots at my mom? I'm drawing the fucking line. _Dante's anger was close to the breaking point. He lunged forward without warning, clutching his hand around the front of Brett's raised shirt collar and lifting him up off his feet. "I've had enough of your shit for tonight. I'm warning you now, you're pissing me off. I am the last person in the world you wanna piss off. Besides..." His voice became much lower, so that only Brett could hear him. "...my mom's dead, asshole." He lifted Brett up a bit more, bringing him so close that he could feel Dante's breath against his face.

The group of men nearby jeered, and the occasional shout of "Fight!" could be heard among them. Brett subtly moved his arm toward the bar, still looking at Dante. He didn't look afraid at all, seeming as if he was still trying to keep up a face of bravado. He spoke with a rather cloying tone in his voice. "Aww, I'm so sorry. You have my condolences," he said as he wrapped his hand around the neck of a nearby vodka bottle.

_CRASH._ Fragments of glass fell away from Dante's head, small spatters of blood on a few of them. Brett continued to hold the neck of the broken bottle, swinging it toward Dante's face as if to slash at him.

Without missing a beat, Dante swatted the broken glass away with his free hand. The blow of the bottle being broken over his head did nothing aside from making him even more angry. The hand on Brett's collar didn't even budge. Rather, it, along with his other hand, slid up toward's Brett's neck, where Dante wrapped his fingers around Brett's throat. He brought Brett even closer to his eye level. "Normally I don't kill humans. That doesn't mean I'm afraid to beat _your_ pathetic ass." With this, he tossed Brett in the direction of the table where his friends were sitting.

Brett landed on the solid oak table with enough force to smash it into several pieces. Assorted glasses and bottles were also smashed, spilling their contents on the floor as well as on the few young men without the reflexes to get away in time. A few nearby patrons yelled, some of them running out the door, at the ensuing fight. Brett, shaking off the momentary daze, opened his eyes to see that the area was suddenly brighter. Looking over a few feet away, he could see his sunglasses laying on the floor amid the pile of wood and rubble from the broken table, chairs and glasses. He looked himself over, noticing that his shirt was now stained with spilled drinks. He pulled himself up, looking back at his companions, who were backing away from him for some reason. Growling, he pulled his stained shirt off, revealing his heavily muscled torso, and tossed it behind him, not caring where it landed.

One of the young men at the table steadily backed away, a look of mixed fear and concern on his face. "B-Brett...you okay, bro? You look like the fuckin' devil or somethin'." He and the others continued to back away at an increasing pace.

Dante focused on Brett a bit more, catching a glimpse of his face. His gelled hair began to turn a deep black, and the irises and sclerae of his eyes were completely this sight, Dante's familiar smirk returned. _So he's a demon after all. This is gonna be more fun than I thought it would be. _He continued to watch Brett transform, moving himself aside as he saw many more patrons flocking to the door.

Brett's attention turned to the one who spoke to him, grabbing him by the throat with a single, long-fingered pale hand. "A human male...how disgusting. Your scent makes my stomach turn." Ignoring the human's pleas for mercy, he placed his other hand on the top of his victim's head. With a flick of both his wrists, he snapped the young man's neck, severing his spine with a sickening crack and killing him instantly. He dropped the corpse to the floor, looking around before focusing on Mercy who, by that point, was on her feet with a pistol in her hand. "Women, on the other hand...I love women." A strange, sick-looking grin appeared on his pale lips as he kept his attention on her. "Especially those who put up a fight. The energy they give off when fighting me is so much more satisfying than those who are easy." He seemed not to notice Dante still standing there as he slowly approached Mercy. "If I had known you found my human form displeasing, I could have taken on one you find far more attractive. However...given the circumstances, it will be much more pleasing to simply take what I want by force." He began to move toward Mercy, whose hand tightened on her gun. The mere mention of forcing himself on her appeared to trigger something. She visibly trembled, stepping back as Brett closed the distance between them. Before he could take another step, he felt the sting of something suddenly thrusting into his back and tearing through his body. He made a sharp, choked yelp and looked down, seeing the point of a sword coming out of his stomach.

Dante tightened his grip on Rebellion and lifted it up over his head, bringing Brett with it. He briefly glanced to Mercy, noting the look of slight fear written on her face. He returned her look with a reassuring wink before turning his attention back to the demon on his sword. "Funny that you say that, bud. I love women too. Especially if they're easy on the eyes. But..." He clutched Rebellion's grip, pulling his shoulders back. "...I hate bastards like you who have no respect for the ladies." His voice intoned a level of cockiness as he slammed Rebellion down, throwing Brett onto the tile floor and splitting several tiles with the sword's tip. Immediately after this, he took a step over to Brett, placed his foot on the other demon's back and quickly pulled Rebellion away, leaving its blade covered in blood and Brett with a deep gash going through his torso.

Brett's hand twitched as he grabbed hold of a nearby bar stool, pulling himself up to his feet and fixing his gaze on Dante. "...You...you're not human," he choked as his wound healed enough to keep him alive. Placing a hand on his stomach, he ran at Dante to counterattack.

Dante held Rebellion by his right side, demon energy sparking around it. "No shit, Sherlock," he replied, suddenly swinging the sword up and out, sending an energy blast toward Brett. The blast clipped him in the side, knocking him off his feet. However, some of the energy broke off and changed direction, slamming into a light fixture on the ceiling and blowing it out, broken glass littering the floor below. At the sound of the glass shattering, Dante winced. _Yikes, property damage. I hate when that happens._

Brett let out a low growl as he struggled to his feet. Dante's attack had severely wounded him, leaving his right arm shattered and hanging uselessly from his shoulder. "Who...the hell are you?" he asked, trembling so hard it looked as though he would fall over any moment.

"Me? Ah, I'm just the resident devil hunter around here. The name's Dante, pleased to meet ya," Dante replied with a confident grin, drawing Ebony and idly twirling it in his free hand.

Brett would have gone pale if he were not already white. "D-Dante?" he stammered, his eyes widening with a look of fear. "The...The Son of Sparda?" His smug air up until now cracked and completely fell away, much like the broken sunglasses on the floor nearby.

Dante stopped twirling Ebony when he heard the question of his identity, briefly rolling his eyes with an inaudible sigh. _Unfortunately._ Dante never thought highly of his father from what he remembered of him. He disappeared over twenty years ago, leaving Eva alone to raise his sons. Dante would probably never forgive Sparda for disappearing. Turning his head to Brett, he raised Rebellion again and grunted a reply to the question. "Yeah, sure. Whatever it is they're calling me these days."

Mercy's eyes snapped open as she heard Dante confirm his identity. _The Son of Sparda? He's __the...Nah, he can't be! _She focused on the fight intently, trying not to blink, else she might miss a crucial sight. She still kept her pistol at the ready on the off chance that Brett would try to make another move toward her.

Brett slid back on his heel, looking for something, anything to defend himself with. At last he caught sight of a broken table leg on the floor. In desperation he reached down with his good arm and grabbed the table leg, holding onto it so tightly he nearly cracked it. He let out a strangled battle cry, charging toward Dante with the table leg raised, intending to strike his opponent with it.

Barely missing a beat, Dante slid out of the way long before the table leg came down upon him. Raising Rebellion, he cleaved the table leg in half with barely a flick of his wrist. The cut-off piece flew toward a nearby set of wall shelves stocked with drinks, slamming into them and causing them to collapse, taking their entire stock with them in a cascade of broken glass and spilled booze. He then swung the blade around to line it up with Brett's torso. Lunging forward, he brought Rebellion into the core of Brett's torso with a mighty thrust. Before he could fall, Dante pulled Rebellion back and thrusted again, repeating the motions with blinding speed until, with one last powerful thrust, he sent Brett's body flying in the direction of the bar. He slid over the fine-grained ebony counter top before slamming into a set of large oak barrels and bursting them into chunks of wood. The contents flooded onto the floor, leaving a large puddle of finely-aged Scotch whisky several inches deep behind the bar.

Mercy's eyes nearly bulged out of her head at the sight. Her jaw hung slack and a look of mild shock appeared on her face. "...D-Dante..." she choked out after a moment or so of speechlessness, "Lori...is gonna _kill_ you."

Dante finally took the time to survey the undoubtedly outrageous amount of property damage. He rested a hand on the back of his neck, a feeling of impending doom slightly creeping in the back of his mind. _Oh shit...this is not gonna end well. _All he could now think about was the massive debt he was likely going to owe.

The loud ruckus finally got Lori's attention, drawing her out from the kitchen to see a puddle on the floor. She emerged from the wall with a bottle of whisky in her hand, only to drop it as the scene came into full view.

Her boots were soaked in the pool of spilled alcohol. At her feet, she saw piles of broken glass, and nearby, a demon's corpse. She looked up over the bar, seeing that it was empty except for Dante and Mercy, and that many of the tables and chairs were smashed to pieces. Tiles were cracked, windows were broken, and a light above was dangling loose. Her jaw slowly fell open, and her fist clenched tighter at her side. Turning her head again, she finally caught sight of the destroyed barrels. _Oh god...no...not that...Not the Laphroaig!_ The color drained from her face as the sight sank in and the smell of scotch filled the air. She felt a bit lightheaded, and one of her eyes subtly twitched as a look of abject horror was written on her face. Tears began to scarcely fill her eyes.

"GAAAAAAAAAAH!"

Dante slowly turned his head to look back, seeing a livid Lori standing there, arms limp at her sides, staring blankly at the remains of the barrels and Brett's corpse laying among the rubble. Taking note of the horrified look on her face and the faint red aura occasionally flaring up around her, all he could do was gulp. _Merce's right...Lori is going to kill me. On the up side, I had an awesome last meal._ Finally, he mustered the courage to speak. "Heh heh..." he managed to chuckle weakly. "...Oops."

The sound of Dante's voice made Lori's nerves nearly snap. "You..._YOU BLOODY IDIOT! _You demolished my pub, ran out all my customers, and flooded my back floor, and all you can say is 'Oops'?" She paused to take a breath, glancing slowly over to the broken barrels, her tone changing to one of mixed anger and grief. "And worse...you destroyed two barrels of the best whisky money can buy! Do you know how expensive _one_ cask of Laphroaig scotch is! You destroyed _three! _That's over five thousand dollars I've gotta replace!" Once again, Lori paused, trying desperately to gather her fractured nerves as the tears started pouring from her eyes. "And that's not even countin' the rest of my stock! I know I had at least five hundred in the bottles on this shelf you busted...and repairin' this place is gonna cost me another three grand." Placing a hand on the top of the bar, she pushed herself up and vaulted over it, sticking the landing and walking over toward Dante. "Give me one good reason not to throttle you right now." To say that Lori was fuming was a massive understatement. She had a look of murder in her eyes as she gave Dante a death glare.

Even Dante couldn't believe it, but he was honestly shaking. _This is it, I'm gonna die. She's gonna strangle me...or worse, she's gonna cut off my pizza and sundaes for life! _Dante seemed to shrink slightly as he imagined the possible retribution Lori would deal to him. A part of him, after meeting with that glare in her eyes, wanted her to go ahead and turn him into a pile of ashes so he could disappear from view. Anything but cutting his sundaes off. Finally, he managed to speak. "I-I'll pay you off. I've got a mission right now and I can get you paid back once I get my paycheck." He gulped again, loosening his collar.

Lori managed to calm herself down a bit, listening to Dante's offer with a sliver of consideration. After all, if she did throttle him, she would miss the chance to be reimbursed for the damage to her business. That, and if she was left with the cost of repairs coming out of her pockets, it would likely be ages before she could restore the supply of her prized whisky. _Eh, I'd better let the bastard live. Merce seems like she fancies him already, and if he keeps comin' back here for pizzas, I'll get a bit of the cost back. But I ain't tellin' him that. _After a bit of thought, she leaned on the bar and tilted her head, reaching up and carefully tightening the hair band that secured her dreadlocked hair back. She finally spoke, looking up at Dante. "Alright, I'll accept your offer. But I expect ya to hold up your end. I want ten grand back and not one cent less."

Dante's jaw dropped as he heard the amount of his debt. "Ten grand!" he cried out with disbelief. _That's at least half my usual pay for jobs like this! _He brought a palm to his face, slightly burying his head in his hand. "Shit..." _I just had to offer to pay her back. Damn me and my sundae habit._

"And not one cent less," Lori confirmed, pausing to grab one bottle that had not been destroyed. She leaned in closer to Dante, making eye contact with him with a menacing stare. "Or else." The beginnings of a smirk twitched at the the corners of her lips. She pulled herself up and coughed, glancing between Mercy and Dante. "So, why didn't Merce handle this? She can usually get rid of most demons fast enough not to destroy half my pub."

Mercy spoke before Dante could say a word. "He was an incubus. Even if I wanted to fight him, it would've been nearly impossible. Usually, women can't fight incubi. They're able to reel us in with a seduction spell and make us completely vulnerable." Even looking at the maimed corpse behind the bar caused her to visibly shudder. She had been somewhat shaken for some reason since Brett made his threat to rape her.

Dante rested against the bar, sighing to himself and glancing up to Mercy. He noticed her visible tremors and abnormally reserved demeanor. "Hey Merce," With some hesitation, he moved a bit closer to her. "You gonna be alright? You look a little freaked out." He looked toward her with visible concern, waiting for her response.

"Y-yeah mate, I'm alright," Mercy replied, trying to calm herself down now that she was safe. "Thanks, by the way." She gave him a brief nod of thanks before pulling on her coat. _Damn it, Dante, you just had to go and destroy the shelves. I really, really need some tequila right now. _

Dante held his hands out, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. "No need to thank me, babe. It's just what I do." He playfully winked at her in a halfhearted attempt to lighten the mood before very briefly averting his eyes. _Though I should probably apologize for completely fucking up a perfectly good dinner date. _His eyes slowly wandered to Brett's fresh corpse as he muttered under his breath. "Thanks a lot." His voice, though lowered, was soaked in sarcasm. _Thanks a ton, asshole. I can't ever get a break, can I? _Finally, he spoke up again after a moment of dead silence. "So, uh...what are we gonna do with Mister Toolshed over there?" he asked, jerking a thumb at the dead devil.

Lori glanced in the same direction that Dante pointed, raising an eyebrow. "That's odd. Usually dead demons just burn up into nothin'." She knelt down close to the corpse, nudging it with her empty bottle. Indeed, it was solid and still warm.

"Unless it's a cambion," Mercy pointed out, peering over the bar. "Cambions are half-incubus or succubus, half-human. Usually, cambions have the powers of their demon parent to some degree. But they're more vulnerable than full demons." She kneeled in for a closer look. "Apparently, this one got his prey by bein' a total wanker. Some girls are attracted to that bullshit." She gave the body a hefty kick in the ribs. "Either that or he might not be completely dead." She raised a hand when she saw Dante drawing Ebony and Ivory. "Hold it, mate. Only one surefire way of doin' this." She gave a knowing glance to Lori before looking to Dante. "Oi, you might wanna stand back."

Dante backed away from them, leaning on the wall and crossing his arms. "That does kinda make sense, now that you mention it," he remarked, observing Lori and Mercy as they dragged the incubus' cadaver out the nearby side door, which led out into the alley next door. He left through the front door, coming around the side of the Checkmate.

Lori laid the cadaver flat on the concrete, standing on one side of it while Mercy stood on the other. She gave Mercy a short nod, upon which Mercy drew her katana and held it out in front of her. A small but visible glow could be seen in Lori's hand. It suddenly erupted into a large, bright flame up the length of her arm. Mercy slowly passed the katana through the flames, a strange red glow shining on the edge. Following this, she leaped into the air before swinging the sword down into the corpse. The moment the edge met the cold flesh, flames erupted from the entry point. Within a few seconds, the entire corpse was ablaze. All that remained, when the fire cleared a few minutes later, was a pile of dying embers.

Mercy returned her katana to its sheath without another word. "That's the one downside about this job," she remarked, leaning on the wall. "Cleanup is always a bitch."

Dante, with an impressed expression, whistled and nodded. "Yeah, it's a bitch, but I'll be damned if you two don't do it with style. If this is how you handle a dead demon, I'd hate to be there when you gotta handle a live one."

Lori snorted a response, shrugging her broad shoulders. "Hey, I'm no demon hunter. I'm just the pub owner. Who happens to shoot fireballs." The ghost of a nonchalant smirk appeared on her lips as she blew some remaining smoke off her fingertips and leaned on the wall.

Mercy let out a slight yawn, drawing her katana from its sheath and using her coat to wipe the ash marks from the blade before re-sheathing it. She turned her head at Dante's comment, hardly showing any emotion. "Demon huntin's a good job. It's damn tough, but you just gotta be tougher." She slid her coat back on, shivering a bit from the cold. "But it's all worth it in the end, see. As long as demons exist in the human world, someone is gonna need somethin' killed. Who're they gonna call?"

"Definitely not the Ghostbusters," Dante answered, stretching his arms and folding them behind his head. "You can't get rid of demons with a vacuum and a backpack." He slowly rolled his neck, brushing some dust off his coat. "Hey Merce, you look a little tired." He looked at Mercy with mild concern, resting his hand on her shoulder. "I'm thinkin' we should call it a night. How about you?" He reached up, running a gloved hand through his hair and scratching his head before heading out toward the street.

"Aye, mate...I think you're right." Mercy replied, stretching her arms. "I haven't slept in two nights. I'm probably gonna head back and go to bed." She averted her gaze and muttered to herself. "Provided my...roommate allows me to sleep." She brought her arms back down from stretching, one of them coming to rest on Dante's back. From how it remained there, Mercy did not seem to be aware of, or to care, that she had just brought Dante into a rather close embrace.

"...Can I join you?"

The voice snapped Mercy out of her fatigue, causing her eyes to come back into focus as she looked up to see her arm around Dante, his arm around her, his face a foot away from hers, and a devilish grin on his lips.

Mercy's jaw fell slack and her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, followed by annoyance. _What the hell? How'd he get there? _The next expression on her face was a look of acute irritation as she glared at him in response to his question. "I am _not_ in the mood right now, Dante," she groaned in reply, raising a hand to forcefully shove him away.

Dante stepped back from the visibly irritated Australian, raising his hands. _Okay, okay. I deserved that. _He kept his playful smirk intact, giving a slight chuckle in an attempt to diffuse the tension. "I was just kidding, babe." His look turned a bit more serious. "Hey, I'm sorry about tonight getting ruined."

Mercy shook her head in response, looking up at Dante. "Don't apologize. It's not your fault that guy was an incubus." She took a slow step toward him, making sure they shared eye contact. "If anything, I should thank you for everything you've done tonight. You're not bad at all." She turned to face the street, in the Ave Maria's general direction.

Dante casually raised his hand, making a waving gesture. "It's no problem at all," he replied, followed by a yawn. "Looks like the party's over, babe. Suppose I'll be seein' ya tomorrow." He gave her a lazy wave before heading off straight down the street, hands in his pockets and the chilly night wind billowing through the tail of his long red coat.

Mercy raised her head silently, watching Dante walk off into the night. "Yeah, sure. See ya, mate," she murmured, not caring if he could hear. _Gods, that was so close, _she thought to herself, the memories of earlier that night coming back to her, especially the threats made by Brett to violate her. For some reason, the very idea still made her skin crawl. She tried to focus her thoughts on the present, still seeing Dante's distant form disappear down the street.

"So you fancy 'im, don't ya?" The sound of Lori's voice interrupted Mercy's thoughts. Lori had a rather coy smirk on her face when Mercy turned to look at her. "It's the real reason I accepted his offer."

Mercy's expression remained stony. "...No. I don't fancy him." She crossed her arms, leaning on the Checkmate's wall for a moment.

Lori turned to look back at Mercy, chuckling to herself. "He's not that bad." She paused for a moment, taking a slow breath. "...I actually did see who took his last pizza." When Mercy looked back at her, she responded with deliberation, underscored with a sigh. "...The Chief."

Mercy brought a hand to her temple and groaned with exasperation. "...That girl again? I swear." Her frustration was punctuated by a fatigued yawn. "Gah, I'm goin' home. I'll deal with her later." She pulled herself from the wall and headed down the nearby street, a sour look on her face.

Lori went into the building across the alley from the Checkmate, heading upstairs and taking off her boots. She grabbed hold of the bottle of whisky by her bed, downing roughly half of it in a single gulp and flopping down on the bed. The bed itself was very large, but it was a disheveled mess, as if she never took the time to make it. The pillow next to her was still a bit disheveled as if someone slept there. Upon seeing it, she chuckled to herself before reaching up and taking her hair out of its sloppy updo. With not a second more hesitation, she flopped back down. It was impossible to tell if she was sleeping or passing out from drunkenness.


	3. Dissolved Girl

**Mission Three **

**Dissolved Girl **

_Ave Maria office _

_1:20 AM _

Sparse but heavy footsteps creaked the wooden floor of the office. Other than that, the only sounds were the crickets chirping outside, and a set of slightly animalistic human breaths. The moon hung like a silver jewel in the sky, its pale light shining in slivers through the curtains, casting silver shadows on the floor. Illuminated by this light was a set of eyes the same color as the dark cloud that seemed to hang over the roof. These eyes slowly darted about, taking in every detail they could afford that the pale moonlight brought to view. This figure seemed to be the only one awake, as Mercy was upstairs in her room, asleep for the night. A pale fingertip, belonging to the insomniac, wandered to her ear and brushed a strand of pale blonde, slightly greasy, hair behind it. The ear was now capable of picking up every sound in the area, even the sounds of silence...and...scratching? There was a scratching noise behind the curtain, at the window. Almost instinctively the young female took a fighting stance. Her muscles would give the occasional twitch, ready to spring her body into fight-or-flight. The pale slivers of moonlight betrayed the shadow on the outside, giving the being a sort of fearsome, even possibly demonic, shape. Her body tensed up, her stance bending her center closer to the ground. Her gray eyes darted around as if she were prey keeping watch for predators, her ears picking up every little vibration in the otherwise silent office.

_CRASH._ A limb smashed through the window, shattering a pane into nothing but a few shards of broken glass and paneling. With a shrill roar, the beast lunged into the window, its red eyes focusing upon the blonde woman. It sniffed the air; clearly, the smell was human blood.

The woman inched back on her heel, still remaining in her stance. She was visibly unarmed, and had no discernible way to defend herself. She didn't scream and alert the demon to her fear, but it was clear she was terrified.

Immediately, the demon went onto all fours and slashed at her with its sharply-clawed hand, the razor-like talons ripping through the soft fabric of her shirt and drawing blood.

She let out a yelp of pain, being careful to keep her distance from her demoniac opponent.

The demon lunged at her, shrieking with hunger and delight at the thought of consuming the flesh of a young virgin. It gave a sniff in the air, gazing up at her and narrowing its eyes.

"Mmm..." it groaned softly, taking in its human prey's pure scent and letting it permeate his senses. "I knew I smelled the unspoiled flesh of a virgin." His voice barely raised above a whisper, but there was a distinct guttural tone to it. "I love it...especially when seasoned with fear." As he moved closer to her, the pale moonlight illuminated some of his features and made him distinguishable in the otherwise dark office.

He stood nearly ten feet tall, his head covered in shaggy black hair. Peering through the hair was a set of four gleaming red eyes, each one focused on her. The hair on his head grew down the length of his back, forming a strange set of winglike growths. His feet were shaped similar to those of a large dog and covered in more black fur. Each of his fingertips had a single sharp claw, the longest and sharpest on his left middle finger. This claw was roughly a foot long and reminiscent of a sickle.

The human girl took a step back, not taking her eyes off the creature standing before her. Though terror seemed to be seeping from every pore on her body, she managed to fight back the urge to scream. After what seemed like an eternity locked in a staredown with the demon, she managed to force a sentence through a trembling tone of growing panic. "Who the hell are you!"

The glow from the demon's red eyes became a bit brighter for a moment as all four of them narrowed in their focus on the human. After a moment, he bared a wide grin full of white, knifelike teeth. His voice surged from his throat in the manner of a hellish growl. "How odd. My prey usually screams in terror before being torn limb from limb. Very well, then...if you must know the name of the bringer of your death, I will oblige. I am called Argus."

Upon hearing the demon's name, the girl seemed to relax a bit. "I was under the impression demons who could talk to humans were smarter than that. Now that I know your name I have all the ammo I need." She reached down to her side, drawing a small, ordinary-looking dagger from a sheath secured to the waist of her pants with a silver chain. She raised the dagger, pointing it at Argus. She could not hide the unsure quivering in her voice. "I think it's about time to even these odds."

Argus let out a deep, evil laugh, pulling himself up to his full height to tower over the human. "Hah! What can a worthless girl do against me? Even if you could hurt me, there's no way you could last long enough on your own to kill me!" At that moment, he raised his arm and a crescent-shaped claw sprouted from the tip of his middle finger. He pointed the inside of the blade at her face, forcing her to back into a corner. "Without your friend here to protect you, you'll be nothing more than a bloodstain on this floor very soon."

The woman's pale hand clenched into a fist, a cold sweat gathering in her palm from trepidation. She tried to speak without a stutter as she stared the demon down, her hand clutching the dagger for dear life. "What do you mean by that?"

Argus' black lips spread into an even wider grin. "I took care of Mercy quite well. Without her to get in my way, killing you is almost too easy. Such delicious prey as yourself is usually hard to come by. There is no way I'm passing this up."

She could feel the fear once again building inside her as she kept the dagger between herself and her attacker. "Go back to Hell!" she screamed in desperation, lifting the knife in front of her. In the light of the full moon, the blade seemed to have some kind of faint silver glow at its tip.

Argus' only response was a smirk that broke into a mad cackle as he moved closer to his target. "Oh I will, eventually..." As he trailed off, he lunged forward, thrusting his claw into her chest and pulling it out. "But I won't be going alone." He briefly licked the blood from the tip of his claw.

The human let out a bloodcurdling scream, the knife in her hand slipping from her grip and landing, blade-down, between two of the wooden planks that made up the floor. As Argus pulled the claw free, she staggered back with her hand resting across her torso and covering the wound. She continued to blindly retreat until her movement was cut off by the presence of a large wooden desk. She attempted to turn, but found two pairs of glowing eyes staring her down.

Argus reached out at her, snatching her up with both hands around her throat. Though she began to struggle, he was able to maintain a tight hold on her neck. He bared his teeth again, preparing himself to sink them into her soft neck and drain out her vital fluids. There was a delay in his actions, as if he was savoring the scent of his fresh catch or contemplating the taste of her human flesh.

The girl groaned through the intense pain and impending threat of asphyxiation. "Like hell...this is over..." _What the hell'd this guy do to Merce? God help me...I'm going to kill this bastard! _She could taste the slow trickle of blood welling up in her mouth, likely from a wound inflicted to a vital organ. _Maybe...not. Maybe...it really is over. Merce...where are you? _Her groans became weak, grinding sounds and occasional soft gasps as she hung there. Her vision became a bit more blurred, and her eyes began to slowly close before suddenly snapping open. _No...No! It's not over! There's no way in hell I'm becoming demon chow! _As her mind screamed in defiance of her impending death, she could see a strange silver light out of the corner of her eye. For a short flash of time, she felt as if she could breathe. It was over as quickly as it came, and her breathing grew slow again. _I...I guess it really is over. _

Death would not have a chance to claim her before several gunshots rang through the night. Three bullets hit Argus in the back, shoulder and the back of his head. He yowled in pain and dropped his prey to the floor.

She sank to her hands and knees, gasping for breath. She could feel her head throbbing for a moment before the pain seemed to subside. The sound of a thump made her look up to see someone bounding through the window, his shadow blocking out the moonlight.

What light was visible reflected off the silver barrel of a large gun. The shooter lifted the barrel up to his lips, blowing smoke away from its tip before pulling it back down and spinning it around his fingers. The ice-cold wind blew through the broken window, causing his long coat to billow out behind him. His lips slowly bent into a cocky smirk that barely showed some of his teeth. "Hey, bud." Argus turned around to see his attacker, and was met by a set of ice blue eyes and a gun pointed at his face. "If you're gonna try to hunt women, why don't ya try doin' it in a town that_ doesn't_ have the world's greatest devil hunter?" The words slipped past the demon hunter's lips before they angled in a lopsided grin.

Argus let out a vicious snarl, raising his clawed limb and lunging at the hunter. "How dare you!" he roared, swiping at his attacker.

Dante stood still as Argus charged him, twirling Ivory and holstering it. Before Argus' claw pierced him, it was blocked by the swift draw of Rebellion. "Hah!" he jeered, sliding back across the waxed hardwood floor. He lifted his free hand and mockingly beckoned for Argus to come at him. "C'mon!" he commanded, holding the longsword out to his side.

The gesture served to infuriate Argus. He lunged at Dante again and swiped at him. "Perhaps I'll make a meal of you too!"

Dante effortlessly sidestepped the attack, shrugging off Argus' attempts to damage him as if they were nothing. "Whoops, missed me!" He chuckled slightly as he stepped out of the way.

Argus roared louder than before, anger and frustration building in his voice. "I'll slaughter you and consume your soul!" He lunged at Dante once again, claw turned under to skewer Dante's heart and rip it out of him.

Dante raised his sword again, catching Argus' claw against the flat of the blade. "Really now? You gotta do better than that." As he finished his sentence, he tilted his head aside and a section of his hair fell out of his eyes.

The human girl raised her head up as her vision cleared, watching the red-coated stranger make sport of the demon that nearly killed her. The stabbing pain that coursed through her chest seemed to be getting less intense, becoming a dull ache and eventually allowing her to get back to her feet. She continued to observe as Dante treated the fight with Argus like a schoolyard game, alternating between taunting him and taking light swings at him with Rebellion. It was easy to see how physically fit Dante was, but she had never seen anyone so calm, even laid-back, in the presence of a demon as fearsome as Argus. _Who the hell is this guy? _she thought to herself with confusion and slight disbelief. _I've seen Mercy kick ass this easily, but she's nothing like this. This guy looks like he's actually enjoying it. _She ran a hand through her hair and swept it back, catching her breath and attempting to bring herself back to a relaxed state. _Either he's completely batshit insane or he ain't human. _A twinge of pain from her wounds shot through her nerves and made her grab at her chest. Her shirt was still torn open and stained with blood, but something seemed to have caused the bleeding to stop. The more she watched Dante toy with Argus, the more a particular thought crept into her mind. _Damn, he makes it look easy. He might just be better than Merce. _Her train of thought suddenly stopped, and her eyes widened as an expression of delayed horror formed on her face. _Shit, that's right! He did something to Mercy! _At that moment, the pain in her chest all but faded completely. _If I let this guy keep it up he's gonna kill the bastard. _She drew a sharp breath with clenched teeth, her eyes narrowing as anger began to build. _Oh hell no. It's personal now._ Not once did she question the lingering thought of revenge, even despite the wound Argus had inflicted on her or the fact that if it weren't for Dante, she would be dead. She stood there for a moment, watching Dante and thinking of how she could attack.

Dante held Rebellion in one hand as he pulled himself back, ready to charge at Argus and cleave him in two. His back was to the human girl as he kept his focus on the other demon. His coat hung off the side of his left hip in his current stance, and the moonlight gleamed off a metal object resting at his side. Ebony sat in the devil hunter's hip holster, at the ready for when it was called to use.

The glimmer from Ebony's grip caught the girl's eye and presented her with a possible idea. Stopping to question herself, or even to think about self-preservation, would cost her the chance. Not sparing a second thought, she lunged at the shining point on Dante's hip and grabbed for the exposed gun.

As Dante stepped forward to charge, he could feel something tugging at his hip. He turned his head to see the human girl attempting to pull Ebony free of its holster, struggling to remove it with as little resistance as possible. He pulled himself forward, trying to avoid letting her get a hold of one of his prized firearms. "Hey, kid! What the hell are you doing!"

She tugged harder at the gun, remaining silent as she did so. Despite Dante's struggling, she refused to release the weapon. Another sting of pain went through her chest and up her arm, but she continued to hold on, determined to free the weapon and use it against Argus.

He fought to shove her away, but her grip on Ebony only grew stronger. "Dammit...let go! You don't need to get involved!" He could feel Ebony wiggle loose from his hip, a sign that she had managed to free it. "Do you even know how to use that thing!" he asked, frustration building in his voice.

The girl tightened her grip on the firearm, her finger hovering on the trigger as she continued to wrestle it away from Dante. "Do I look like a dumbass to you?" she remarked, finally getting the gun free. Her eyes widened as she held up the gun, clearly surprised by Ebony's heavy weight. "All I do is point and shoot." She raised the pistol with an unsteady grip, trying to balance its weight in her single hand as she had seen Dante do with such little effort. She shakily attempted to squeeze the trigger, but it would not yield to her weak grip. She tried once again, but to no avail. Still, the gun would not fire.

The demon hunter could only watch as the human struggled to handle the large weapon. Ebony, as well as Ivory, was a custom model designed by, and tailor-made for, Dante alone. It was no surprise to him that she lacked the control necessary to fire a single round without harm to herself. At this point, though, Dante could not care less. A part of him believed it would serve her right if the recoil crushed her hand.

From her clumsy stance alone, it was obvious to Dante that she did not have the slightest clue how to handle any gun, let alone Ebony. The gun wavered a little in her hands, and he kept his eyes trained on her.

Argus noticed the golden moment of mutual distraction, using it as the perfect time to lunge at his opponents. He raised a clawed hand and slashed in Dante's direction. Dante hastily raised Ivory and a shot rang out, clipping Argus in the knee. He howled in pain and dropped onto his good knee, glaring in the direction of Dante and the girl. His eyes widened when he saw that it was not Ivory that was freshly smoking from the shot.

The girl was cringing sharply, clutching Ebony in her quivering grip. It was apparent that the recoil indeed injured her hand, likely breaking a delicate bone or two. She bit her lip to keep from screaming in pain, but was more surprised that the bullet she accidentally discharged actually hit her enemy and not her.

Even Dante himself was surprised, as well as a bit relieved that she had not yet shot her own head off. _Damn, that was close. She might not be so lucky next time,_ he thought to himself. He had to get the gun away from her and get her injuries treated. She was human and appeared to have no combat skills to speak of. "Hey, kiddo...you should probably get the hell outta here and leave the demon hunting up to the professionals. You know, before you get hurt or somethin'."

"And let some random stranger rob me of my one chance for revenge?" she shot back indignantly. "Like hell I will!" She took hold of Ebony and lifted it up in a one-handed stance with its barrel pointed at Argus. Her grip was a bit tighter on it, but it was still clearly not enough to handle the gun. She had her teeth gritted and was inhaling unsteadily through her clenched jaws, trying to steady herself to shoot straight.

The devil hunter's sharp eyes focused on the staggering, weakened human next to him._ Man. This girl is out of her mind...and WAY out of her league. If I didn't show up in time she'd be a goner. Hey, wait a sec. Where's Mercy? This is her place, isn't it?_ The thought of Mercy sprung up in Dante's head again, and he looked to the blonde with his purloined gun. "You don't know how to shoot that thing. Now gimme the gun and get out of here before you get killed." He hid it well, but he was concerned for the girl. She was apparently Mercy's friend. She had to know something about where Mercy was at the moment. A light bulb came on in his head as he thought of the perfect method to get her out of the room. "You know if Merce is here or not?" he asked.

"This son of a bitch most likely did something to her. I haven't seen her all night," she replied, Ebony still in a death grip.

Dante went livid before his expression turned to one of anger. The thought that this demon had done something to his client was nearly too much for the devil hunter. He clenched his fist around Ivory, looking at the girl with a glare of anger in his eyes. "Look. Get out of here. Now." He was trying to hold back his anger so he wouldn't be the one to hurt her.

Even seeing the look in Dante's eyes, the girl did not budge. "I don't give a damn if this is your job. This is my revenge and you're not getting in the way."

She was met with the sight of Ivory being pointed at her face. "I said get the hell out of here! I'm not gonna warn you again!" Dante commanded, his finger twitching slightly toward Ivory's trigger. He didn't intend to shoot her, merely scare her into fleeing for her life.

However, this did not have the effect that Dante had originally intended. The moment he raised the gun to her face level, she became still as a corpse. Her breath became sporadic and ragged, almost as if she was in some altered state of mind. Her body was visibly trembling before her left hand, tightly clutching Ebony, began to raise as if being pulled up by the workings of an unseen puppeteer. Her finger, with almost mechanical motion, snapped back on the trigger of the firearm. Once. Twice. Three times.

Dante's eyes went wide with shock as three bullets were fired in his direction. He managed to deflect two of them with his sword, but one caught him in the chest. He let out a barely audible growl, putting his hand against his chest to stifle some of the pain as he glanced up toward the girl, trying to gather his senses. Her expression was completely different from just a few seconds ago. She was nearly unrecognizable. Her eyes were fixed blankly on the air in front of her, the right eye drifting out aimlessly. There was occasionally a visible tremor in her body, and Dante could hear her heart racing. She stood there like a living zombie, her eyes focusing blearily on him. Even in her current situation, Dante could not bring himself to kill her. She did not look to be that far out of her teens. With the reaction she was displaying, though, her humanity was looking less certain. No human had ever displayed such a change in behavior in front of him.

Without another second of hesitation in his thoughts, he moved toward her and grabbed hold of her hand, attempting to wrestle Ebony out of her grasp. Her grip had become very strong on the weapon, nearly as strong as his own would be. Even he found her clutch on his pistol extremely hard to break. "C'mon, kid! Give it up!" he commanded, hoping to verbally persuade her to return his purloined weapon. She did not respond to his verbal coaxing any more than his physical efforts. She seemed completely beyond all reasoning and possibly either catatonic or completely berserk.

Argus watched the spectacle for a moment, narrowing his eyes to get the girl in his sights. With the two of them fighting over the gun, it seemed that it would be rather easy to attack either one of them. He raised one of his claws and dashed toward Dante and the human, turning the claw so as to gut the first one he touched.

Dante finally managed to wrestle the gun from the girl's grip, but not before she thrust her knee into his stomach a number of times, knocking the wind out of his lungs. Before she went berserk like this, she never would have even been able to make him flinch. He stumbled back a few feet, nearly falling over and placing an arm over his stomach. The devil hunter took a few sparse breaths, drawing Ebony and Ivory and glancing up at the human girl. She was still standing there, almost in a trance, with tunnel vision focused on him.

Argus glanced between the two of them, turning his hand up and dashing toward the girl with the blade of his claw aimed toward her heart. He let out a fierce cry and thrust his claw forward, feeling it slice through flesh and tissue, running its victim through completely. He slowly pulled the blade out, feeling it covered in blood. Instantly, he thrust it right back in in a different spot. The victorious grin on the demon's face faded as he glanced down the length of his blade. It was impaled deeply in someone's torso, along with the wound he had left. He turned his head up, his gaze meeting with that of his victim.

Dante looked back at the demon, his lips bowed into a cavalier smirk. He showed no sign of being in pain, not even a twitch of an eye at the two-foot-long claw buried through his stomach. The devil hunter leaned in toward his assailant, keeping the focus between their eyes. The distance between them was so short that Dante could feel the devil's breath on his face, and it smelled like a fetid cadaver. Dante's smirk grew wider before he uttered a single word:

"Boo."

Argus' eyes grew to the size of saucers as he backed up, attempting to pull his claw out of Dante's stomach before the devil hunter could damage him. "You...you're..." the demon stammered, words frozen in his throat by shock.

Dante wrapped his hand around the devil's wrist, quickly pulling the claw out of his torso. It felt painful at first, bt the pain quickly subsided as Dante casually flung Argus's arm away. He pulled away from the other demon, dramatically holding his nose and waving his hand in front of him, wafting away some kind of smell. "Phew! Man, have you ever heard of breath mints? You can buy 'em for a quarter at the gas station. You should really consider getting some. Your breath smells like ass." He chuckled to himself, preparing to draw Ebony and Ivory. "How about we just get this over with, bud?" he suggested, glancing around the room. The human girl was nowhere to be found. Giving a shrug of relief, he trained his eyes back on Argus. Hey, at least she's gone. Now to finish this bastard off and go find Mercy.

Argus let out a scream and poised to charge at Dante again, enraged by the hunter's line about his bad breath. "You're smelling the remains of my past victims," he hissed, raising his claw. It glowed with a deep red energy, extending another six inches. He swung it toward Dante at blinding speed, the claw striking Ivory hard.

Dante pulled himself back to avoid wounding his arm. He pointed Ivory at Argus' face, pulling the trigger. The gun let out a sharp click, but no bullet came out. The impact from Argus' claw had jammed Ivory's firing mechanism. Dante squeezed the trigger once again, swearing to himself before turning Ebony on his opponent, firing it twice. Two bullets pierced through the demon's side before he extended his other arm, one without the claw.

Argus swung his hand toward Dante again, this time scratching him across the face. The wounds were not deep, but his claws struck Dante's eyes. He blindly fired his gun a few more times, Argus blocking the bullets with his sickle-like claw. He lifted up a large foot, channeling some demon energy into his leg and swiftly slamming his foot into Dante's chest. Dante was sent flying into Mercy's desk, skidding over the top of it and smashing into the chair so forcefully that it broke into pieces.

Stunned and blinded, Dante raised a hand to his face, clutching it as he tried to regain his vision. The first sight he was met with was Argus advancing on him, claw raised in a stance so as to decapitate the devil hunter. The demon suddenly howled in agony, causing Dante to turn his attention to him. When Dante's vision cleared completely he could see Argus clutching the back of his head, grimacing in pain, and a shadow looming behind him with an improvised weapon of some kind raised above his head.

Argus staggered around to face his assailant, their eyes meeting. The shadowed figure lurched forward, slowly at first. In the moonlight, the attacker's face could faintly be seen.

The human woman from before looked anything but. Her pupils had dilated to the point where her eyes were almost completely black. She walked with an unsteady gait, her hand clutching what looked like the broken remains of a chair leg. The air was thick with silence, save for the occasional dull thumps of stilted footsteps and heavy breathing. As Argus's eyes met with hers, he could see a marked thirst for blood as well as a complete lack of any reasoning or restraint. She raised the club again, her head tilted and her gaze glassy.

Argus roared at her, moving toward her slowly as if a predator preparing to pounce. His claw was raised again, point aimed at her heart. As he swung it down, she raised the club to catch the blade and block it. She moved the club out from the parry and swung it up toward his hand, flinging the claw up before she turned the club over and swung it at Argus's hand. The force was enough to smash many of the bones from his wrist to his fingertips. Though he was a devil, his hand was only slightly more sturdy than that of a human. He let out a shrill, painful howl as his claw-bearing hand went completely limp.

Dante struggled to pull himself up, his eyes widening at the girl's sudden appearance and display of strength. He picked Ebony up from the floor, aiming it and firing at Argus. Dante's blurred vision made his aim waver, and the result was a bullet hitting Argus's hand enough to rip the clawed finger away through the bone and with it, the claw. Dante prepared himself to fight, but the girl moved between him and her quarry.

Argus let out a bloodcurdling yowl, clutching his maimed hand and glaring at the girl. "You...I'll make you pay for that in your blood!" he screamed, preparing to attack. Without his claw he would be much less of a threat, but his size was still enough to cause severe injury to the human.

Dante reached for his back to grab Rebellion. As he went to draw it, he could see the girl's ear twitch very slightly and she looked to him with a chilling glare. Her eyes looked almost like those of someone in Devil Trigger state. She lifted her weapon and swung it above her, catching the pouncing Argus in the jaw. It wasn't enough to break the bone, but it was enough to stun him.

The girl turned back to Argus, who was quickly shaking off his daze and clearly in much pain. She made a more aggressive move this time, swinging the club at the arm that once held the deadly claw. In the flow of this move, she used her body weight to throw the demon off balance and place his arm close to the wall. The club made contact with its target, and she swung it two more times. The final blow sounded a sickening crack as the slightly thinner forearm bones were broken, causing Argus to let out another shriek. Before he could react, she shoved him into the wall and pinned him there with her increased strength. When their eyes met, he saw nothing of the frightened, trembling girl he had been attempting to kill. They were the eyes of a devil. A very powerful, very destructive devil, though she smelled human to both Dante and Argus.

Dante's jaw hung slightly open as he watched the girl continue to savagely beat Argus with her club. She was also sustaining injuries, but they didn't seem to snap her out of it. He looked over to the floor and picked up Ebony and Ivory. For a moment he worked the jam out of Ivory's barrel, moving out of the girl's view and taking careful aim at Argus. He pulled both triggers simultaneously and Argus suddenly stumbled and collapsed. The bullets had apparently shattered his kneecaps.

Argus was now at a disadantage, laying on his back with two destroyed kneecaps, a broken wrist and a missing finger. He turned his head to glare at Dante, who merely grinned back at him and twirled his guns.

"I'll concede this one for now. Looks like the kid's got it." He winced at the end of his sentence as the girl slammed her club into Argus's face. _Damn. Is this kid even human? She's scary._ As long as Argus was her focus, Dante felt mostly safe. There was no telling what kind of damage she could do, or how brutally she could do it.

The girl didn't seem to care where the bullets had come from. She seized the opportunity and pinned her victim down before raising the club and swinging it down again. This time, the blow cracked Argus' jaw, causing a few of his teeth to fly out and blood to spill down the corners of his mouth, pooling on the floor around his face. The trauma left Argus twitching and trembling in agony, occasionally letting out a grunt or a cry of pain. The girl smashed the club into his face again, this time breaking his nose. He let out a strangled gasp before she turned the angle of the club slightly, this time bringing it down into his rib cage, swinging it back up, and coming back down again. The resulting blow shattered his rib and cracked his collarbone. He yelped in pain, no longer having the oxygen capacity to scream as he coughed up a bit of blood onto her bare lower leg. She stared down toward him, club raised again for another blow. Her eyes did not seem to be looking at him, only staring vacantly in his general direction. His vision was made black by the next blow, which came down squarely into the top of his head. The next few blows were strong and swift, shattering the bones of Argus' face. More teeth flew out of his head as the savage beating continued. More bones cracked until, finally, a single blow to the top of his head crushed the bones of the devil's cranium. He made a strangled grunt, forcing a whispered string of words out. "...The Master will...have you...soon...very...very-"

_BOOM_. Argus' last words were cut off by a bullet. Dante blew the smoke from Ivory's barrel, holstering his pistol. "Yup. And wherever the hell he is, he'll be joinin' you soon." He turned his head toward the girl, raising his hands and backing up in case she attacked.

She stood there, stiff as a board, her trembling hand still clutching the broken chair leg. The trembling was spreading quickly to the rest of her body, likely from shock. Her shirt, legs, arms and face were covered in blood, Her wild-eyed, vacant expression soon faded, leaving her eyes looking focused once again, albeit still with a bit of a fog in them. Her hair, soaked in blood and sweat, hung limply in her face. As her vision cleared, she slowly looked down to find herself soaked in demon blood and a demon's corpse laying at her feet. Her eyes slowly widened before she suddenly released her grip on the chair leg. She backed away from the bloodstains and the corpse before letting out a scream of horror.

Dante gave a slight flinch and looked over to her. She was gasping hard, trying to get a breath while still in shock. The expression on her face was one of disbelief, horror and disgust all at once. She stared vacantly at her hands for a moment, trembling even harder than before. He slowly and carefully walked over to her, quickly looking over her face and body to see if she was injured. When he spoke to her, he attempted to remain calm so as not to alarm her. "Hey, kid. What the hell happened to you? It wasn't like I was gonna shoot you. You shoulda gotten out of here a long time ago." He continued to examine her at length for any injuries.

She did not turn to look at him as she replied, her voice weak and choked. "Don't _EVER..._point a gun at me again." she gasped, blood and tears streaming down her face. She looked, once again, completely different from before. Now she looked like a deer in headlights, or someone who had just walked in to find a loved one dead.

Dante knew that feeling all too well; he tried to shrug it off. The girl seemed to be alright, physically at least. Shaking his head a bit to regain his composure, he straightened his coat and turned to head for the door. "Whatever, kid." He suddenly turned his head back to her. "Hey. If anything like this ever happens again, call me. I'm gonna go look for Merce." He turned to go out the door again, but was stopped by the girl.

"How will I know to call you if I don't know your name?" she asked. It was a valid question, as neither she nor Dante knew one another's names.

"The name's Dante. The place is Devil May Cry." He turned back toward the door, grabbing the handle. He tried not to look back at the girl, who was visibly terrified by the sight of the mutilated devil corpse laying on the floor. Hopefully, she would be alright while he left in search of his new partner and possible rival.

A strange, slightly muffled thumping sound came from the stairs, causing Dante to pull back and look up. "Oh come on. What is it this time?" he grumbled, leaning on the door jamb with a slightly tired look in his eyes. He had been up since earlier that night helping Mercy and dealing with the incident at the Checkmate. All he wanted to do now was go back to his place and sleep, possibly for a few days, and put the insanity of this night behind him.

He was met with the sight of a handgun barrel pointed in his direction. He flung his coat open a bit and walked toward the gun's holder. "Heh. Morning, Sleeping Beauty. I was just about to go out looking for you." He stepped back slightly when he saw her face. She looked very exhausted and none too amused. _Ouch. Tough crowd, this one. At least she's alright._

As Mercy's eyes cleared, she took in the sight of her office, or rather the remains of it. Her favorite chair had been broken to splinters, a window was busted out, and there were several bullet holes and spent rounds littering the floor. There were blood stains all over the floor and walls, along with the maimed corpse of a demon on the floor next to a trembling, blood-covered human girl. Mercy's face turned pallid as all the blood left it, her fist clenching around the grip of her revolver. "What in the _FUCK_ happened in here?" She turned and pointed her gun back at Dante, charging up to him and pointing the gun right at his neck. "I want answers, wanker!" she demanded, cocking the gun so he could see it was loaded.

Dante quickly grabbed Mercy's wrist, pushing it away. "I was on my way back to my place. That bastard was attacking this kid. She a friend of yours or somethin'?" He indicated the girl behind them and casually pulled away from Mercy's gun.

Mercy pulled her gun down, setting it on her desk, and looked to the girl, the corpse, and the bloody chair leg. "She went berserk again, didn't she?" she asked, upon which the girl nodded back at her.

"This guy pointed a gun at me," she replied, gesturing to Dante, who rubbed the back of his head.

"All I wanted to do was scare her enough for her to run off. Seriously." Dante tried to explain himself, only for Mercy to strike him in the back of the head with her hand. "Ow! What the hell, Merce?" he whined.

"You dipshit! That's what sets her off! She gets scared, pissed, or stressed out enough and she'll get madder than a cut snake every time!" Mercy gave Dante another whack across the back of the head for good measure before turning her attention to the girl. "Hey Andrea, you alright?"

The girl, Andrea, immediately darted toward Mercy, pulling her close. "Mercy! Dear gods...I thought you were dead!" She seemed to be fighting back tears as she clung to the Australian woman.

Mercy calmly placed a hand on Andrea's shoulder. "Honestly, mate. Do you think somethin' that weak could take me out? I'm tougher than I look. Otherwise I wouldn't be makin' a living out of it." She gave Andrea's shoulder a soft pat. "Oi, go take a shower."

"But what about your office?" Andrea asked, looking over the damage to nearly the entire room. There was no possible way she could pay for it all; The chair alone was likely worth at least a thousand dollars. _Merce is gonna kill me. I know she's gonna kill me. Most of this is my fault. I'm such a fuckin' moron. _

"No worries. I know someone who will cover it in full." As Mercy finished her sentence, she turned her gaze to focus right on Dante. "Isn't that right, Dante?" She leaned on her desk, looking up.

Dante's jaw fell open from bewilderment. "What? What did I do! What the hell do I owe you?" he asked, looking around at the damages to the office. This office was easily twice or possibly three times as big as his own. _Damn it, none of this is my fault. Why do I have to pay for it?_

Mercy surveyed the room one more time, a look of deliberation on her face. "I have to get a new window put in, my floor cleaned and refurnished, and my chair replaced. That's gonna run up to...$4500. And I ain't gettin' off your back until you pay it, mate." She raised a hand up in his direction, jabbing her finger into his chest as she spoke.

Dante felt as if he was going to have a coronary. _4500 bucks! Is she insane!_ He sighed to himself, grumbling slightly. _What do you expect, Dante? Do you really expect to get through a mission like this without racking up debt to your eyeballs?_ The devil hunter slid his hands in his pockets and sighed in defeat. "Alright, alright. I'll pay you when I get my reward from Dimitri. I'm just glad to see you're alright. I thought that demon bastard did somethin' to ya. He mentioned something about a Master. Looks to me like he's working for somebody. Somebody that wants you and that kid dead." He brushed some dirt off his coat, glancing up to Mercy.

Mercy's expression suddenly became rather grave. _No...it can't be him._ She turned back to Dante, trying to hide her worry. "Did he give a name?" she asked, her hand twitching toward her gun. She looked slightly disturbed, and Dante could see it.

"Nah, I shot him before he got too mouthy. After Andrea pulverized his ass, of course." He noticed the disturbance in her expression and reached out to place a hand on her shoulder. "Hey, if anything's botherin' ya I might be able to help." He paused to let out a slight yawn. "Hey Merce, can I ask somethin'?"

Mercy looked up to Dante, their eyes meeting. "What is it?" She could not hide her apparent fear or worry about some unknown issue.

Dante gave another yawn, stretching his arms. "Would you mind if I crashed here for the night? My place is still a ways from here and I feel like I'm gonna pass out." He leaned on the desk. "I'll use a couch if you want me to." _Though I wouldn't mind sharin' her bed,_ he thought to himself with a hidden smirk.

Mercy turned to look out the broken window. "Aye, no worries. I've got room in the game room upstairs. There's a futon in there." She took a slow breath, placing a hand to the side of her head. She looked as if she was in a sort of trancelike state. _I'm not gonna let you win this time, Spinel. Not with Dante around, you won't. _

Dante turned and headed for the stairs, heading up to the second floor and turning for the game room. He sat down on the futon, not bothering to pull it out. _Something is really botherin' Merce._ _And for some reason, I feel like I gotta help her. It's a gut feeling, almost. Either that or the prosciutto's fighting back. _

Downstairs, Andrea continued to stare at Argus's corpse as a cascade of emotions ran their course through her mind. "It's happening more and more. I feel like I'm just going to go completely batshit insane and never go back to normal." She looked up at Mercy, hoping for some answers. "Man, why can't I just be an ordinary person?"

_Mercy remained lost in her trance for a moment before looking at Andrea. You never were normal, mate. I don't wanna say it right out, but you've never, ever been normal. _


	4. Sympathy For The Devil

**Chapter Four**

**Sympathy For The Devil**

_Location Unknown, Metropolis, USA _

_4:30 AM _

"Are you sure this is the way?" she asked, continuing to follow the dark-haired man walking ahead of her. Her tone was somewhat confused, but he seemed trustworthy enough. She had determined that it was better to walk down the street at this time of night with a companion rather than by herself, where she would be much more vulnerable to muggers, rapists, and such others Her physical features were enough to mark her as choice prey for such monsters. She was small and built on a delicate frame, and possessed a somewhat demure bearing. Her skin was soft and pale, with a slight rose tint on her cheeks.

The man looked back toward her, a calm smile across his thin lips. "Yes, I am quite positive. If we continue down this road and turn right at the crosswalk a few blocks down from here, we should come to the hospital almost immediately." He stopped for a few seconds to allow the young woman to catch up. "Why are you going to the hospital so early?" he asked in an attempt at light conversation. She felt it was right to trust him; he did not look harmful at all. He was tall, yes, but looked slim enough not to pose much of a threat. He looked very clean-cut, though he was clothed entirely in black, which made his milky pale skin stand out even more under the street lamps and the occasional light from the moon. His hair, which was as black as his clothes, was tied back at the nape of his neck and fell just a bit past his shoulders.

She followed the man's instructions carefully, keeping a few steps behind him as they walked down the sidewalk. The chill of the brisk night wind made her shiver, drawing her small beige coat tighter around her body.

The man stopped walking for a moment, turning back so he faced her. "Are you alright, dear?" he asked, smiling gently as if concerned for her well-being. He noticed her visible shivering as she tried to stave off the bitter cold. Lifting a gloved hand to his collar, he slid his long, black wool coat off his shoulders, turning to her and placing the coat on her back, carefully pulling the collar around her.

The shivering stopped as she felt the large collar of the double-breasted coat resting around her neck. The coat seemed far too large for her small figure, but it provided more than enough warmth to compensate for its size. She lifted her head to look at the man, meeting his eyes with a soft, grateful smile. "Thank you, sir."

A soft nod was his reply. "It is no problem at all." He continued to walk slowly enough for her to keep up with him as they reached the crosswalk he had mentioned earlier. Stopping, he could see that there were no cars in the area at all, or anyone else around them.

The young woman pulled the fleece-lined coat slightly tighter, letting herself bask in its warmth. She looked up at its owner, noticing he was now only clothed in a black silk button-down shirt. "Won't you be cold, though? They say the wind chill will be down to thirty-two degrees."

He shook his head in response, walking across the street without so much as a shudder from the cold. "No, I won't be. I feel just fine." After a few seconds of lull, he turned his head back to look at her, the soft smile on his lips and quite a trustworthy look in his eyes. "Say, miss, would you be comfortable telling me your name?" He stood at the sidewalk, hands in his pockets, as he awaited her response.

She continued to walk until she reached his side, turning to face away from the chilly wind. Once she approached him, she paused and looked up, not quite making eye contact with him. _I suppose I should tell him, _she thought. _He's trustworthy enough, he's very sweet, and... _When she thought it was too dark to see, she smiled to herself. _...and he's very handsome. _Finally, she turned her head so their eyes met. "My name is Isabelle Crane," she confessed, looking down the street at the right corner. She glanced back to him with a confused look in her eyes when she saw that there was no hospital there. "The hospital isn't there. You said it would come almost immediately."

He first gave a confounded look, and then a soft chuckle. "...Ah, my mistake. It's further down that way, then we take the next crosswalk and turn left. It's quite dark tonight, and my vision isn't at its best. I assure you that you will be safe as long as you're with me," he said with a comforting smile as he continued to lead her down the sidewalk.

She took a breath, trying to force herself to calm down. "If you're sure, I trust you," she affirmed with a terse nod, her voice quivering with uncertainty. Her hands slowly tightened around the strap of her pink sling bag as beads of cold sweat formed in her palms.

"Oh, I'm positive," he answered, noting her signs of slight unease. "You look as if you are afraid of something, Miss Crane," he observed, letting her move a bit closer to him. "What could there possibly be to fear here? There's nobody around but us, the hospital is close by, and I can defend both of us should anyone attack." He continued to walk slowly down the sidewalk, looking back at her as she followed suit. "Say, why _are _you going to the hospital this early anyway? You don't look injured."

Isabelle smiled gently, holding up her bag which bore a visible logo for the local medical center. "Well, I'm a new nurse there. We always have to show up at these unforgiving hours. It's rough on me, but if it means helping other people feel better, I'll do it." She slung her bag back over her shoulder, looking up at the pitch-black, cloudy night sky and contemplating his questions of her fear. "I hope you're right about that. I'm so scared that someone will attack me in the middle of the night. I moved out here to the city to pursue my nursing career, and I'm...sort of alone. If something bad happens, nobody will know I'm gone."

He looked at her with a warm expression on his face, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I assure you, nothing is going to happen. You've got a very kind heart and a desire to help people that just isn't seen in this cruel world anymore. It's my obligation, I think, to preserve such rare kindness wherever I can find it." She could not see the corners of his lips subtly turn themselves at a slightly different angle, his genial smile turning into a hidden smirk.

A visible blush crept onto her pale cheeks. "Th-thank you. I'm feeling a lot safer now." Finally, the anxiety seemed to completely fade from her as they proceeded down the next street, the lines of the nearby crossing becoming visible in the distance. She hissed softly and shuddered as the freezing wind stung her face.

"I'm glad...to be of service," he remarked. His voice had become slightly deeper and slower as he spoke, with a marked sharpness that had not been present in his otherwise gentle tone before. They continued together across the zebra crossing, preparing to turn to the left.

Isabelle watched her companion abruptly stop in his tracks and suddenly glance up. "Wh-what's going on?" she asked before he spun around and lunged at her, slamming her against a wall. She let out a sharp yelp, looking around to notice that they were in a darkened alley. "Why are you-" Her question was cut short when a steel construction beam fell from above, striking him in the head with enough force to apparently crush his skull.

As he collapsed, the beam pinned him down, seeming to crush him as blood poured from his nose, mouth and the wound in his head. He lay limply under the heavy beam, his lifeless form occasionally giving a slight twitch.

Isabelle slid her foot back with hesitation, letting out a sharp gasp. The realization was soon setting in that she was now alone. Only minutes after declaring he would protect her, her companion was now laying before her, under a heavy construction beam and very likely dead. The hospital was nowhere nearby from what she could see, and she was also lost in the city in the darkness. Her sudden solitude began to eat away at her composure and the feelings of anxiety began to surface again. Stricken with panic, she let out a scream of abject horror and backed deeper into the alley without any rational thought. She knew of nowhere to go for assistance, and her tiny body prohibited her from trying to lift the beam off her fallen escort. She could only stare blankly at the grisly spectacle, not even noticing the shadows looming behind her.

His hand gave one more twitch, followed by his arm. His hand stiffly moved onto the fallen beam, pushing it off his body with a single, hard shove. Using the force of his arms, he managed to suddenly push himself up off the ground. He turned his head so his gaze was locked on her terrified face. Blood was still dripping from his nose and mouth, smearing across his lips and chin. His lips spread into a sinister grin, far removed from the gentle smile he had worn before. Slowly, he elevated himself into an erect position, standing tall as if he had been completely uninjured.

The sight of him rising from a fatal wound only horrified Isabelle even more. She let out another scream, backing away even faster as he began to approach her. "You! You're...a...Y-you're...a..."

"...Monster?" He finished her sentence, his tone completely changing and his entire demeanor dropping all evidence of benevolence he had displayed before. Briefly, he wore a slightly offended and hurt expression which was itself a façade. "Such a harsh word. I am no monster, my dear, not by any means." His smirk continued to widen as he watched her back away from him. "I prefer to be called a devil." Slowly, he began to walk toward her with leaden, deliberate steps, reaching into the pocket of his dark pants and drawing a rather small dirk. The blade's handle was wrapped in braids of black leather, a small plait of silver thread lining its pommel. Lifting the tip to his tongue, he gently caressed the sharp edge before raising it out in a threatening position.

Isabelle's continual retreat backed her into the darkness. The gathering shadows felt cold and sinister, and she could swear she felt something breathing on the back of her pale, tender neck. In her hurry to back away, one of her feet fell on a rather large chunk of rubble. She stumbled and fell backwards, landing on her backside. Still, she attempted to escape by crawling backwards, her eyes not moving away from her attacker. A morbid, forbidding feeling seemed to crawl up the bare bones of her spine, causing her to stop retreating. Briefly turning her head, she gazed at the empty, stygian darkness that filled the alley behind her. The vision of utter nothingness froze her at the shadow's perimeter, and her head snapped back around to face her assailant once more. The feeling soon set in that she could not retreat any further. She raised her hands in front of her face in an attempt to defend herself against him, letting out a scream of desperate terror.

Her attacker's next action was completely unexpected. Rather than attacking her, he stopped a few paces away, looked at his weapon, and slowly resheathed it. "Mmm..." His thin eyebrows slowly lowered as he briefly closed his eyes. "On second thought, I would truly rather not do this directly. I wouldn't want to stain my clothes with human blood." When he saw her seem to relax, his sinister smirk only broadened until she could see a row of gleaming white teeth, with canines reminiscent of fangs. "Fortunately for me, I don't have to lift a finger."

The shadows behind her seemed to loom closer and closer, feeling as if they were robbing her of her breath. It began to feel as if the darkness itself was alive. As she glanced back into the abyss, she could faintly see what looked like several pairs of glowing eyes staring back at her. Upon making eye contact with them, she felt light-headed as all color left her face. Her body reacted on reflex, causing her to roll over and try to crawl away from the shadows. When she looked up, however, he was still standing before her, wearing the same wicked grin as before.

"Such a good little girl. All heart, I should say," he observed, idly examining his reflection in the gleaming blade of his dagger. He raised his free hand, directing a wisp of his ebony hair behind his ear before turning to look back at her and lowering the blade. As his eyes met her terrified gaze, she could see them begin to glow with an ominous golden color. Even the light of the moon was swallowed up in the blackness, and all that was visible were a single pair of golden orbs that gleamed with a deathly chill.

She was rooted to the spot, her entire body paralyzed by fear. Her limbs felt as if they were made of lead, too heavy for her feeble will to move. She could not even muster the strength to speak; her breath was frozen in her chest and her throat was as tight as a straw. The darkness behind her, and what might lurk within, haunted the back of her mind and kept her even more firmly frozen in place. Only the occasional vacillation of her eyes and the quake of every muscle were the only visible movements her body made as she watched his every action with unbroken attention.

He raised his blade up again, turning it so the narrow edge faced him and focused his eyes on it, as if inspecting its keenness "There aren't many of your kind left in this world," He said as he maintained eye contact with her. The look in his eyes was one of clear superiority. Turning his head away for a moment, he looked up at the darkened sky before he began to slowly walk toward one of the walls, occasionally turning his head down toward her and letting the edges of his lips turn up into a callous smirk. Once he reached the wall, he turned on his feet and began to pace in the other direction. "So kind, so pure, so..." He took a deep but soft breath, letting out a sigh of feigned admiration, "..saintlike." He took a brief pause to glance at her, giving her the soft and gentle smile he gave her when they first met. This time, however, the warmth she had seen before was gone. The expression he now wore seemed like a perverse, empty shell of its former self. The smile lingered briefly before it twisted, almost nightmarishly, into a callous grin that bore his gleaming teeth.

The fleeting sight of pretend warmth very nearly eased Isabelle's fright. However, this calm was just as short-lived as his smile and its new form as a mutated rictus caused her eyes to widen. She let out a feeble gasp, the first sound she had made for several minutes. Her eyes remained fastened on him, and she did not dare to lend a glance back into the encroaching abyss.

His smirk slowly turned into a rather pensive sneer, and his gaze turned back to the blade in front of him as he ambled back and forth across the alley. "Unfortunately, that precious light of innocence you carry leaves you a bit..." He turned to face her, pausing yet again to take a soft breath of the bitter air. "...oblivious to the true cruelty of reality. After all, I _did_ say this world was cruel, no?" He chuckled quietly to himself as he sensed her trepidation building. "You live a pure and blameless life to the best of your ability. However, I know why you really do so. You see..." His pacing stopped as he passed her once again, turning to face her and closing the distance between them. "...To live in such purity throughout one's life means to spend that life constantly dodging the influences of the darkness." As he uttered the final syllable, his voice lowered to a harsh whisper. He drew his knife up, pointing its tip at her face. "One touch of darkness..."

Isabelle felt something cold slipping around her arm from behind and above. When she looked up to see the source of the feeling, she saw a shadow emerging from the darkness behind her that was clearly in the shape of a clawed hand. A gasp of fear escaped her as she tugged away from the hand, only for the fingers to suddenly lock onto her wrist. Letting out a louder shriek, she struggled harder to pull away from the demonic limb's grasp, only to have another, similar hand seize her free wrist. Both shadowy hands tightened their grip on her wrists, pulling her back toward the infinite blackness. She could feel sharp claws digging into her flesh and making her bleed. Her shrieks turned into cries of terror as she tried to pull herself to her feet in a desperate but vain attempt to pull away with the strength of her legs. Her frantic struggling quickly wore her frail body down, causing her to slip and fall to her knees.

He stood in place, observing her struggles with a slightly sadistic look in his golden eyes. A maleficent grin spread across his lips as he continued to speak. "...And you're permanently stained." His breath took the form of small puffs of mist that hung in the frigid night air. He paused speaking for a moment, silently listening as Isabelle's shrieks and cries grew louder. Tilting his head back, he smiled to himself and listened to her screams as if they were one of Mozart's symphonies. Focusing back on Isabelle's face, he breathed a cloud of hot mist onto her. "And once you're stained, the stain spreads. It becomes darker and darker." A pale fingertip traced the lock of hair hanging from the side of his head and flicked it back over his shoulder. "Eventually..."

Another set of demonic hands thrust out from the darkness and clutched Isabelle's legs, pulling her back until she was mired in the abyssal shadows. Now, she could feel something distinctly alive squirming against her arms, legs and back. She could hear the disembodied chattering of an unknown amount of demonic voices. Her shrieks and cries became full-volume screams as she writhed and struggled against the shadows and more dark tendrils began to squirm across her chest. The more she thrashed about, the tighter the dark spirits' hold on her became.

He advanced upon her once again, this time coming mere inches away from her. He was so close that she could hear his heart faintly beating and feel his heated breath repeatedly washing over her face. "...it will stain your soul completely. Those with pure hearts often lack the strength of will it takes to fight off the shadows." As his voice went silent, she could hear a subtle rumbling sound.

Though she could hear his heart beating, it paled in comparison to the feeling of her own heart pounding in her chest. She drew strained, hollow breaths from the bitter air, gasping sharply as her airways ached from the stress. It was quite the cruel blow for him to mention willpower now; she was cursing her weak will for not allowing her to stand up and fight. Her screams stopped for a moment as she stared at him with a bleary, unfocused look. Her eyes were watering, and tears soon began to stream down her face. She could taste the saline as one or two drops seeped past her lips, causing her mouth to also water.

He lifted a free hand to his chin, slowly stroking it before glancing past Isabelle and at the shadows with a widening grin. As he focused back on her, he could see the tears streaming down her face as the physical and emotional strain were wearing down the last of her strength. "Without that strength of will..." He paused, his free hand coming down to rest upon his stomach. "...it won't be long at all before the darkness..."

The tendrils that crept up her body suddenly became thicker and harder, encasing her body in the darkness up to her neck. Looking down at the sea of shadows around her, she screamed again, this time louder than ever as she wriggled about with what little mobility she had left. A black limb slid by her neck, a clawed hand slowly covering her face. The last of her strength seemed to leave her at that moment, leaving her without the will to even move her head. She could hear possibly hundreds of demonic forms shambling about in the abyss, and she could feel their movements against her encased flesh. The hand covering her face slightly muffled her screams, and she could feel other hands, claws, and tendrils very slightly tugging at her limbs.

"...swallows you up," he continued as the hand over Isabelle's face finally pulled her head back into the abyss. He slid his knife into its hip-mounted sheath, walking over to a wall next to the writhing mass of pure dark energy. Leaning against it, he shut his eyes and listened intently to Isabelle's muffled screams of terror and agony. He could faintly hear the sounds of bones cracking among the screaming. He wore a smirk of satisfaction and bemusement as he listened to the macabre symphony. The screaming became sharper and sometimes punctuated with the occasional gurgle.

After letting the spectacle go on for several minutes, he raised his head up and glanced at the shadows. "Come now. I know it's fun, but I _do _have more use for this girl than entertainment. Finish her off, won't you?" Once again, his pale hand came to rest against his stomach.

The screaming soon ceased, and the shadows in the alley fell silent. A pool of blood seeped from below it and flooded onto the paved road. He moved away from the wall and walked toward the shadows, his form disappearing into the blackness.

As the shadows parted, the cold, silver light of the moon beamed down over the city. He stood, alone, on the empty sidewalk. A few blocks away, the logo of the local hospital glowed brightly on the building's wall. At his feet laid Isabelle's torpid form, her eyes wide open but otherwise completely lifeless. His coat was still wrapped loosely around her, its woolen sleeves covering her small, pale hands. There were no other signs of life in the area, human or demon.

He looked down and bent over, pulling his coat off her body. He put the garment on himself, closing the double-breasted clasps. A silent smirk came to his lips as he picked up her comatose form. As he picked her up she gave the occasional twitch. He took a deep breath, as if inhaling some unseen essence coming off her body, and sighed softly. Lifting her up so her face was level with his, he took another, much deeper breath. His pupils constricted tightly, and his irises glowed a brilliant, serpentine gold. An unearthly, jade-green mist poured from his mouth into hers, and her entire body went rigid as a rattling sound came from the back of her throat.

After some time, a large white glow emerged from her mouth, increasing in brightness as it appeared. It drifted on the cloud of green mist, shining brightly before his continued inhalation pulled it into his mouth. The light disappeared, leaving behind only darkness. He let out a deep, slow sigh, sliding his hand over his chest. "...Innocent...and weak-willed. The most satisfying combination," he remarked, still holding Isabelle's body in his arms. He felt a great increase in his energy, which had been somewhat lacking lately. _Breaking her mind, though...I can do better than that. Fear of darkness is far too easy. I wish she had some trauma in her past, something I could actually have fun torturing her with._ _Sometimes a challenge makes the hunt so much more worth it. _

His brief lamentation of the ease of his hunt was interrupted by the sound of his stomach rumbling. Letting out a sigh, he rested both hands across his stomach and closed his eyes. _It seems my body is also demanding nourishment._ He ran his tongue over his lips, bringing a hooked finger over his sharp chin. The next few moments were spent ruminating over exactly what he would feed on as he surveyed the immediate area. His eyes soon fell upon Isabelle's still-warm body, which was still laying there near his feet. As he examined his fresh kill, he could detect the hot, fresh blood still left in her veins. As he inhaled its aroma, his jaw relaxed and his lips hung slightly open. His stomach growled once again, prompting him to lift his victim up in both arms. He held her in the manner of a man carrying his new bride over a threshold. With her body securely in his grasp, he began to slowly walk away from the scene.

He walked some distance from the hospital, coming to what looked to be a slightly derelict building. Though it was abandoned, it seemed to be rather well-furnished, save for the occasional cracked window and decayed brick. Even the hotel's neon sign remained, though it had not been lit in months. Approaching the hotel, he turned and went a bit further down the block until he came to the alleyway between the hotel and a neighboring building. Kneeling down on the sidewalk, he held Isabelle's body up with one arm as his free hand searched his hip pocket. Pulling out his dagger, he brushed her hair aside to examine her pale, warm neck. _Biting one's prey is best left to savages and animals, _he thought as he pressed the blade against her soft flesh. _A man of refinement such as myself prefers to use utensils. _The blade's sharp edge pierced her skin, drawing a bit of blood as he dragged it along to deepen the cut. Sliding the blood-tinged blade away, he rubbed the skin around the wound to enhance the flow of blood from the fresh incision. As he smelled the still-fresh blood seeping from the wound, he licked his thin lips once more before placing them along the cut. When the space between his lips and her flesh was airtight, he began to slowly nurse the blood flow until it became steady. After a few seconds, he increased the rate of sucking on the wound until he was imbibing whole mouthfuls of the crimson fluid. What little pink color was left in Isabelle's skin faded, leaving it a cold, ashen grey. Occasionally, he would adjust the position of her body so that the blood continued to flow. Briefly, he pulled his lips away from her neck so he could take a few deep breaths. _It has been so long...I believe three months have passed since I last fed this well. I may be more like him than I wish to be._ After a few quickening breaths, he closed his lips over the wound and continued to feed, this time focusing on the taste of Isabelle's blood. _I could not have picked a better meal. Her blood is the sweetest I have had the pleasure of consuming in many years. _

After about half an hour of constant suckling, Isabelle's corpse was completely cold and dry. He took hold of her nearly desiccated body, pulling himself up from the sidewalk. There was a large dumpster a few feet away that seemed to be infested with all manner of flies and vermin. He took the few steps over to it, hoisting the spent corpse up and dumping it inside without hesitation. The sound it made seemed to indicate that the cadaver landed on a large quantity of rotting meat, as did the rancid odor that emanated from the dumpster.

His hands now free, he turned back toward the door of the empty hotel. He let out a deep sigh of contentment and rested a hand on his stomach, smirking to himself as he opened the solid wooden door. Once inside, he headed toward the nearby stairs, ascending them for several stories until he reached the topmost floor. From there, he continued down a long, winding hall. The floor was covered from wall to wall with a deep-pile, maroon carpet and the walls were painted in jade green and gold. These halls looked more fitting for a palace than a hotel. The electrical lights had been shut off months ago, when the hotel was abandoned. In their place, dimly lighting the hotels deserted halls, was a luminous, ephemeral mist that seemed to hang in the air.

After some time traversing the empty corridors, he arrived at a pair of large, imposing mahogany doors, each with an ornate brass door handle. He raised a pallid, gaunt hand to a doorknob, turned it, and pushed the door open. This room, especially, seemed to belong in a palace. The faint light of the city streets could be seen through the wide casement windows, even though the maroon drapes were already drawn. On the right side of the large room was a king-sized, Victorian-style bed, its pillows and spread trimmed with emerald green and silver paisley designs. Toward the center was a large, rectangular mahogany table with a border of gold leaf inlay, surrounded by four matching chairs with deep green cushions.

He headed past the table and to the left of the room, toward a regal-looking, antique wood parlor chair with its cushions lined in emerald green velvet. Taking a seat in the throne-like chair, he reached over toward the mahogany bookcase and pulled down a black leather-bound book from the multitude of volumes on the shelves. As he opened the book, the noise of knocking disturbed his repose.

"Enter," he commanded with a slightly impatient tone, looking at the offending door as he leaned back, letting his limbs release their tension.

A gaunt, skeletal being slid its head into the room, peering through empty black sockets. Its bony body was cloaked in a black, diaphanous hooded shroud, and the air around it was thick with the fetid smell of death. "I see you have returned at last, Lord Spinel," hissed the being, its raspy voice reminiscent of a death rattle. As it entered the room, it bowed its cadaverous head toward its master.

Spinel remained seated in his chair, leaning back and setting his book aside. "Yes. I had quite the...fulfilling hunt tonight," he affirmed as he rested a hand on his stomach and reflected upon the taste of his victim's blood and the power of her pure soul. Raising the same hand, he let it hang limply, palm up, in the direction of his spectral servant. "...You," he commanded.

The servile demon tried to stand erect despite his quivering bones and hunched posture. "Y-yes, my lord?"

"Get me some wine at once," Spinel responded, bringing his hand back up to winnow a small strand of his dark hair. A hidden smirk twitched at the corner of his lips as he let his strength slowly return. _Perhaps I will have my finer wine this time,_ he thought. _It will be the perfect _finis_ to tonight's feast. _Before the servant had time to leave, Spinel raised his hand. "Make sure it is the thirty-year Cabernet. I will have nothing less," he commanded before waving his lackey away.

"As you wish, my lord." The skeletal devil responded, hurrying out of the room and down a hall.

Spinel, now alone in the room again, tilted his head back and gazed at the ceiling as he let his mind and body settle into a slow respite. The room was silent, save for his slow breathing. He gazed into space for a moment, thoughts and recollections wandering about in his mind. _Perhaps this simple hunt was best for me after all. The past three months' lack of nourishment left me shamefully feeble, and the capture was more taxing on me than I would like it to have been. _He rested his hand back on his lower chest, gently rubbing it. _Had I taken on anything more challenging, I would have likely come out even more exhausted than before. _Slowly rolling his shoulders back, he sank deeper into the luxurious chair's cushions.

The door opened once more and the same skeletal being from before entered, carrying a silver platter with a bottle of deep red wine wrapped in a label inscribed with gold-inked French script, as well as a single Bordeaux wine glass. "Your wine, Lord Spinel," the demon announced before laying the platter down on the antique table next to the chair.

Snapping out of his reverie, Spinel's gaze traveled from his servant to the silver platter on the table. Once he saw the wine's label, he gave a satisfied smirk, followed by a low chuckle. "Well done," he remarked as he carefully removed the cork on the wine bottle and slowly poured out a portion of its contents into the glass. Taking the glass to his lips, he took a moment to savor its bouquet before taking a slow and refined sip. A subtle, pleasant shudder went up his spine as he let the body of the wine sink into his senses. Letting the taste linger for a moment, he let out a soft and contented sigh escape his lips before turning to look toward his demonic slave. "Tell me," he said as he took another sip, "is there any information from Argus regarding the Son of Sparda?"

His inquiry was met with the demon lowering his head, shame in his body language. "I do have some news, my lord, but I do not think it will please you." The demon seemed to shrink back slightly as he saw his master's eyes fixed upon him.

"How will I know if you do not divulge it to me?" Spinel asked, leaning forward in his chair and staring over the top of his wineglass.

"W-well, my lord..." the cadaverous demon seemed to whine. "Argus did not return. He was killed..."

Before the demon could finish, Spinel responded. "As I expected. We _are_ talking about the Son of Sparda here, after all. Argus is strong, but the Son of Sparda's power far eclipses his. His father sealed the Demon World up over two thousand years ago." Spinel's contented expression remained unchanged as he took another, larger sip of his wine.

"...by a human woman with a large wooden club."

Spinel froze for a fraction of a second before spewing his latest sip of wine from his mouth, spraying a scattered mist directly into his servant's face. "...What..." he uttered, teeth slightly clenched. He raised a hand and wiped away the drops of wine dribbling from his chin, letting out a grunt as he felt a few drops touch his silk shirt collar. "I believe I heard you say that Argus was killed by a human." As he spoke, he used his other hand to set the glass of wine on the table next to his chair.

"Y-you heard correctly, sir," the servant replied hesitantly, his voice trembling with undertones of fear. "The Son of Sparda was present, b-but the most damage was done by-"

"Silence!" Spinel commanded, lightly slamming his hand on the arm rest of his chair and raising his voice with audible chagrin. Instantly, the entire room fell silent. Even the constant death rattle that replaced the servant's breathing was still. The thought of a human killing any demon, let alone one of his higher-ranking warriors, was enough to disturb Spinel's previous feelings of ease. The pleasant taste of wine that lingered was replaced by a foul taste in his mouth, and he felt his stomach sour and churn. _How...why? How could Argus lose to a human wielding only a club? Furthermore, how did he encounter her in the first place? I expected him to be killed, but I assumed that the Son of Sparda would be the one to kill him. _He let out a slight groan, sliding both hands over his aching stomach and slumping over slightly. His face seemed to twist into a look of mixed discomfort and irritation. "Nnngh..." _Perhaps consuming all of that human girl's blood in one feeding was not the best idea. It was twice as much as I usually consume...and I think this is why. My hunger seems to have blinded me. _He turned his attention toward the wine on the table, picking up the glass and imbibing its contents. He rested a shaky hand against his temple, trying to stifle the slight throbbing in his head. His tensed posture eventually relaxed as the pain in his stomach abated, the wine apparently easing his digestion.

The servant took note of his master's momentary appearance of sickness. "My lord, what is ailing you?" he inquired, seeming to have forgotten about Spinel's outburst the moment before.

"...Your presence. Leave me at once," he demanded, waving a hand at his servant to dismiss him. "Your odor is leaving a foul taste on my palate." The entire time the servant had been in his presence, Spinel seemed to keep his distance from him and his horrid smell.

The servant took a deep bow, but did not leave immediately. "I could obtain more information on-"

"Get out," Spinel ordered, slouching back in his chair and trying to let his body relax again.

The skeletal demon hesitated, shambling toward the door. "But don't you want to know about-"

"Out..." Spinel growled.

"My lord, I-"

"_Silence!_" Spinel finally shouted, pulling himself unsteadily from his chair and grabbing hold of his servant's neck. "You know how disposable you are, I assume. You know you are a creation of mine..." He hoisted the minion's light body several inches above the ground. "...And as such, I can make as many of you as I would ever need. Yet still, you push your luck _and _my patience in the same space of time." His hand tightened around the demon's neck as he continued to speak. "The ice you are treading on is growing thinner and thinner. Try my patience again and I may do far worse than dismiss you from my presence." With a look of fury in his eyes, he roughly pulled the mahogany door open. Once the way was clear, he used his other arm to fling the demon out the door and into the wall across the hall. The impact was accompanied by a sickening crack, and the servant laid on his back for a moment before pulling himself up and staggering away, nursing a fractured collarbone and upper arm.

Spinel turned back toward the room, shutting the massive doors with a slam. Rather than return to his chair, he moved to the other side of the suite and toward the large, elegant bed. He pulled off his dark leather boots and set them side by side next to the bed, and slid his wool coat off his shoulders. He laid the coat across the back of the nearby dining chair. Stretching out his arms, he climbed into the bed and laid down on his side, a single hand resting across his stomach, which had been visibly swollen since he had drained Isabelle's corpse dry. His gaze blurrily drifted across the room, likely from the alcohol in the wine finally beginning to affect him. His eyelids were growing a bit heavy with fatigue, but his mind was still somewhat active. _Perhaps I _will_ seek out that human woman. I have to learn exactly what happened. As for the Son of Sparda...I am quite sure he is involved with this somehow. _His eyes finally closed, and every muscle in his body began to relax. _I know that Dimitri has already enlisted his help. _A tired smirk briefly twitched from his lips. _That ought to make things just a bit more...interesting. If this human woman has anything to do with Dimitri, the Son of Sparda or even..._ He suddenly chuckled. ._..Alice...she's definitely someone worth keeping my eyes on. _Letting that particular thought linger on his mind, he was finally able to relax himself completely and allow himself to slip out of consciousness.


	5. Interludes

**Mission Five**

**Interludes**

_Ave Maria, Metropolis, USA_

_10:35 AM _

The sun had risen over the city four hours ago. The streets were swarming with the local populace rushing to work. The din of car horns, crossing signs, and the occasional road rage-fueled shouting match filled the tense city air. The Ave Maria, on the other hand, was completely quiet. The sun had risen on two sleeping night owls and one chronic insomniac. The only sound coming from any room upstairs was that of Dante softly snoring. He had been sound asleep since three o'clock in the morning in Mercy's games room, and had not budged since. Occasionally, he broke the silence with a barely-intelligible mumble, sometimes about a stolen slice of pizza.

Mercy's bedroom was completely silent, even with her in it. She was curled up in a queen-size bed with black sheets and a beige quilted comforter messily draped over her legs. One pillow was knocked aside, and the sheets were pushed down to form a large wrinkle at the end of the bed. The existing stillness was suddenly broken by Mercy letting out a sharp groan and uncurling her body, rolling over onto her back. The silence resumed for some time until she let out a louder groan, this one with barely-decipherable words. "N-no...I..." She suddenly curled up tighter, the next sound she made sounding like a weak moan of pain. "L-leave me..." The sounds one would hear from outside were barely distinguishable from sobs.

"Not again..."

_Location Unknown_

_Time Unknown_

The shadow grew closer to her, forcing her to retreat into the closest corner. His only visible features were a pair of golden orbs in the place of eyes and a wide, crescent-shaped grin with visible fang-like canines. His voice rumbled unintelligibly in her ears, creating a wicked echo that seemed to pierce into her psyche. She shrank back further, falling onto her backside against the wall. The dark figure's visage and aura seemed to completely overpower her, its presence stripping away any will she had to resist. She stared up at the yellow eyes before shutting her own and begging the being not to harm her.

The figure was unmoved by her pleas. A shadowed limb stretched out from the darkness, clutching the collar of her shirt and pulling her toward its source. The shadows gathered closer before completely surrounding her, consuming all light in her vision. She could see nothing but the shadowy void, and feel nothing except for an an abhorrence that weighed heavily in the pit of her stomach. The only sounds that pierced the silence were her own screams echoing through the suffocating darkness.

_Ave Maria _

_10:45 AM_

Mercy's eyes snapped open. The mild irritation of the morning light pierced the darkness from her nightmare. She gasped for breath and grabbed at her chest, staring blearily up at the off-white stucco ceiling. Without getting up, she scanned the room with her blurred, waking vision. On the bedside table at her right laid a revolver with a silver chrome barrel inscribed with the name "Azrael." As her eyes came into focus, she could see the closet to her right, door hanging open. Her military green bomber jacket hung on a coat hook on the door as if it had been carelessly tossed there. On the brown carpeted floor laid her khaki pants, left there since she had taken them off last night. Everything in her room seemed to be the way she left it when she fell asleep the previous night.

Finally mustering the strength to sit up, she let out a sigh of mixed relief and agitation. "Gah...just a dream," she muttered, placing a hand against her forehead. Though she had slept uninterrupted for the past eight hours, she felt as if she had not slept at all. Stretching her tired limbs, she turned to the side of her bed and lowered her feet to the floor. Finally pulling herself up to stand, she walked over to the mirror on the wall in front of her bed. She was clad only in a black tank top and matching black boy shorts, the right sleeve of the tank top dangling slightly off her shoulder. Her dark brown hair fell in disheveled curls that reached the middle of her back. She stared into her reflection for a moment, her jaw slightly slack, before pulling herself up and going into the master bathroom. Once there, she opened the frosted glass shower door and turned the faucet on until it ran lukewarm. Carelessly tossing her clothes away into the nearby hamper, she stepped into the shower. She let the tepid water run over her bare skin, carrying with it the brisk chill of the previous night. Her hair was soon drenched in the rain from the shower head, and she gazed at the ceiling with the same jaded thousand-yard stare she woke up with.

Dimitri opened the door to silence and the spectacle of the ruined office. The hardwood floor was stained with blood, broken window glass littered the corner, and a chair had been smashed into virtual nonexistence. This place had clearly been the site of a struggle. Judging by the crystallized blood on the floor, demons were involved. Dimitri let out a slight gasp, unsure of what to make of the scene before him. Remaining silent, he reached up with a pale fingertip and slightly loosened the white insert of his clerical collar. _Calm yourself, Dimitri, _he admonished himself as a distinct smell caught his senses. It combined the rancid odor of human blood, demon blood and a general miasma of death.

"Agh..." he grunted, bringing a palm over his face. _What a foul stench. _

Raising his head a bit and wafting away the smell, he stood still for a moment to let his mind try to draw a logical conclusion. From above, he could pick up the faint sound of running water and the occasional loud snore. _What in the name of..._ He continued to listen, only for the snoring to cease. A set of footsteps thumped across the upper floor, drawing closer until they came toward the stairs. Dimitri followed the sound with his ears before finally looking up to see Dante coming down.

The devil hunter's white hair was rather unkempt, and he wore a black button down shirt with the top two buttons undone. He reached up and scratched at his scalp, slowly rolling his neck side to side before looking down to see Dimitri standing among the rubble. "Oh hey, Padre. Fancy meetin' you here."

"...Bonjour, Dante," Dimitri returned Dante's salutation, a stiff tone in his voice. "Do you know what in heaven's name happened last night?" He took a step back, indicating the wreckage around him with his hand.

Dante followed the priest's pale hand with his eyes. "...Oh, that," he muttered, tilting his tired gaze up into space. "That's actually mostly my fault. I was on my way back to the office when I heard some screams and smelled some demon funk coming from here. I was worried about Merce, so I busted in through the window." He paused, gesturing toward the smashed window. "I didn't find her, but I did find this human girl that seemed to be a friend of hers. The demon was about to kill her. Felt like I had to get involved. Anyway, apparently I now owe Mercy five grand in damages." He let out a plaintive sigh, shrugging and sliding his hands into his pockets.

Dimitri raised a hand and lowered his eyeglasses, peering over them as he listened to Dante speak. At Dante's mention of a human friend of Mercy's, he raised his head a bit, interest piqued. "About this human...what was her name, if I might ask?"

"I'm not that good with names. I think hers was Andrea." Dante gazed up a bit, as if staring into his own brain to find answers. _I wonder if Frenchy here knows anything about that kid. Like why she's so damn crazy, and how the hell she could kill a demon with a chair leg._ As he awaited Dimitri's response, he ran a finger through his hair and swept a bit of it behind his ear.

Dimitri's eyes narrowed slightly at the mention of the name. "I see, so Andrea stayed here last night. Tell me, Dante. Is she alright?" The way that Dimitri asked the question, it seemed as if he already knew the answer. He crossed one arm over his torso and rested the other one upon it, curling his fingertip against the point of his chin.

Dante shrugged nonchalantly, sliding his hands back into his pockets. "Well, she got out of it alive. But she kinda...lost it. She ended up beating this bastard to death with a broken chair leg. I have no idea what caused it, but she's one of the scariest humans I've ever met. I show up and she's this clumsy little kid about to be killed by a demon twice her size. Fifteen minutes later she's beating his face in." Dante lightly pounded his fist into his palm in an attempt to emphasize his point.

As Dimitri listened, he rested a fingertip across his glasses and raised them up along the sharp bridge of his nose. "I see. You were a witness to her berserk fury," he stated plainly. "Given your account of last night's events, I can only infer that the aforementioned demon somehow provoked her."

The way Dimitri spoke so matter-of-factly about Andrea's so-called berserk fury led Dante to the conclusion that it was a frequent occurrence. _Great, _he thought. _Just wonderful. I'm in over fifteen grand worth of debt to two women I just met last night, one of them's got a friend who has a habit of going on ax-crazy murderous rampages, and this guy's talking about it like the weather. What the hell could happen to me next? _A familiar voice almost instantly made him regret the question.

"Actually, you can blame Andrea's little mental episode on the dipstick you're lookin' at." Mercy sounded even more irritable than usual. She leaned on the wall next to the stairs, cocking her head in Dante's direction to emphasize her statement. Apparently, she had arrived downstairs in the course of Dante's conversation with the priest.

At the obvious ire present in Mercy's voice, Dante placed a palm against his forehead, using his thumb and forefinger to gently squeeze his temples. _Why the hell do I even ask myself that question anymore? _He could feel the beginnings of a headache as Mercy continued to speak, turning her attention to him.

"You know, I really hate it when people lie to me," she remarked. Though she looked fatigued, she managed to maintain her infamous icy glare at the devil hunter.

Dante responded with a confused tilt of his head. "When did I lie to you?" He crossed his arms as he asked the question, trying to remember any time where he had not been truthful to Mercy. _Come to think of it, I did tell a little white lie last night when I told her that backing her up was my idea. I don't think she would've worked with me otherwise. _

"Can't remember, can ya? Lemme jog your memory." Mercy answered gruffly as she descended the stairs. "And I quote. 'I offered to do it.' Remember now?" Her voice grew deeper as she finished speaking, looking back and forth between Dante and Dimitri.

_Damn,_ Dante thought to himself. _She really knows how to put a guy on the spot. _He attempted to give himself a moment to consider his reply. _You have two choices, Dante. You can either be straightforward and let her bitch you out now, or cover it up for a while and let her bitch you out harder later. _The devil hunter scratched at the back of his head, running his fingertips through his white hair.

Before Dante could open his mouth to speak, Dimitri raised a question of his own. "Would you have accepted his help if he was truthful?" He reached up and removed his glasses, gently breathing on them and wiping them with a soft cloth before putting them back on and looking toward the Australian woman. "We both know just how stubborn you can get," he observed. "I would not be surprised if Dante had to stretch the truth by a margin just to gain your trust."

Dimitri's remarks seemed to momentarily catch Mercy off guard. Her eyes briefly widened and the icy glare she had fixed on Dante faded for a few seconds before she turned to face the priest. "Which leads to question number two." She stood up a bit straighter, leveling a glare at Dimitri. "Why'd you hire him anyway? We're in the same field and I can bloody well handle myself. I don't need anyone stickin' their nose into my business." Though she was shorter than Dimitri, her stance seemed to add a few inches to her height.

A brief silence hung in the air after Mercy finished speaking. Dimitri remained silent, but focused on Mercy through his silver-framed glasses. "I do not understand why you object so heavily when you are offered assistance, Mercy." He spoke with a tone in his voice that sounded almost plaintive. A flicker of worry was visible in his amber eyes, and he breathed a slow, inaudible sigh.

"And I don't know why you're so damn insistent on me acceptin' it. It's startin' to get on my last nerve," Mercy retorted, clearly not yielding to Dimitri's concern._ The less people I involve in my real objective, the better. I can't let him get a hold of anyone else. _Her expression became harder than before as she focused on her internal train of thought.

Dimitri raised his fingertip up to his glasses, lifting them back up on the bridge of his nose as he prepared his response.

"Did ya ever stop and think he might be doing it because you guys are friends and he cares about you?" Dimitri was too slow, in Dante's opinion, to respond at the speed Dante believed he needed to win the argument. He strode over to Mercy with a bit of a swagger in his step, lifting his shoulders and arms in a casual shrug. "I mean, in my opinion it woulda been worse if he'd just left you out there on your own." The devil hunter paused in his step, folding his hands behind his head and looking up at the ceiling. "Last night when I ran into you you certainly weren't handlin' yourself all that well." His head came back down so his eyes focused on her and he reached down from his head, gesturing toward himself with his free hand as he spoke. "Hell, when I showed up you were about to get a demon's toenail through your throat."

Mercy turned her head back toward Dante, her eyes meeting his with yet another stony glare. "Don't act like you're some kinda great bloody hero. I've come out of worse situations alive on my own. I didn't need you to come waltzin' into my business and swaggerin' about like the hottest thing since hellfire." She averted her eyes from him, crossing her arms and leaning on a nearby wall. She visibly shivered as the cold autumn wind blew in through the smashed windows.

Dante kept his attention trained upon Mercy for a moment, scratching the back of his head. _Man, this happens with every woman I get involved with. They're babes, but they're stubborn as hell. _He sighed to himself, almost in defeat, before an idea came to him that caused a hidden smirk to form on his lips. At last, he replied to Mercy's small tirade. "...I believe you, babe." The smirk became more visible as he took a few slow strides toward her. "I'll believe you could get out of that on your own, no sweat. I mean, you've got the goods." He paused to take a breath, his eyes briefly passing over Mercy's hips and legs. Before she could detect his wandering look, he continued speaking. "But answer me this," he requested, "Would you have enjoyed last night nearly as much as you did if I didn't show up?" His lips parted into a cocky grin as he leaned on one arm on the wall a few feet away from her, giving her a suggestive wink.

Mercy's cold glare melted almost immediately. As much as her stubborn pride kept her from admitting it right now, she did enjoy much of the previous night. She would have gone to the Checkmate for a few drinks either way, but having Dante there certainly made the night much more entertaining, at least until the incident with the incubus. She remained silent as Dante continued to stare at her as if trying to coax the truth out. "...Eh, it wasn't that much of a difference. I woulda gone to the Checkmate either way." She secretly hoped he wouldn't be smart enough to catch on to how obvious her own little white lie was.

"You know, I really don't like it when people lie to me." Dante echoed Mercy's earlier statement to him, but kept his cocky grin. "And here you are, tellin' me little white lies. Until we got interrupted, you were havin' a ball and you know it." He gave her a playful look, similar to one of the many he gave her last night. He leaned forward toward Mercy, but stayed at a distance comfortable to her.

Dimitri, meanwhile, had become rather livid. The turn of the conversation seemed to disturb him slightly. Unwanted thoughts began to creep into his mind regarding what sort of misbehavior the two devil hunters may have engaged in. He turned a worried and slightly nervous glance toward Mercy in particular. _Mon Saints...she would never. Not after that time. _He adjusted his glasses once again, this time eyeing Dante. _I could see him trying to convince her, though. It is in his nature._ For the moment, Dimitri remained silent. The awkward look on his face remained, however, and did not look as if it would be going away any time soon.

Mercy looked back up at Dante, seeming to completely ignore his slightly mischievous glances. Pushing herself off the wall, she raised her hands with a shrug that mirrored his own. "Alright, mate. Ya got me." Turning her head away from him, she surveyed the rubble that was much of her office. "Bloody hell..." she murmured under her breath, her expression visibly growing rather morose.

Dante noticed Mercy's change in expression and followed her glance, its cause quickly becoming apparent to him. Walking a few steps over to her, he rested a hand on her shoulder. "Hey, hey. Don't be like that. Once whatever it is you're involved in is over and I get my paycheck from Frenchy over there, I'll cover all the damage. Hell, I'll pay out of pocket just to get this window fixed for you today." In his own head, Dante was second-guessing what he had just said. _Oh come on, Dante. Isn't payin' her five grand enough? Now you gotta dig for pocket change just to fix her window. Everyone's got their weakness. Achilles has his heel, Superman's got kryptonite...and I've got strawberry sundaes and babes in distress. _

Mercy shook her head, waving Dante's hand away from her shoulder. "Nah, it's alright. I know someone who'll fix it free of charge." Her voice was a bit more silent than usual, without its trademark toughness. Her eyes remained fixed on the landscape outside, watching the traffic pass by and life go on. To someone even vaguely familiar with Mercy, it became somewhat apparent that something more than the destruction of her office was weighing heavily on her mind.

Dante watched Mercy for a moment, seeing her shiver as the chilly November wind blasted through the broken window. Through her shivering, he noticed her grave expression. His curiosity piqued, he continued to observe her. In her current state, it did not seem as if she would open up to a question. In spite of only knowing one another for a little over a night, she had already gained a reputation for being rather secretive, as well as considerably stubborn. The devil hunter raised his hand to the back of his head, once again scratching at his scalp. "...If you've got someone who can fix it for free, why are you still so down-lookin'?" he questioned innocently. _Eh, she probably won't answer me. Probably gonna say "None of your business, wanker." Or somethin'. Still won't hurt to ask._

Mercy did not respond. To Dante, it seemed that not only was she reticent to answer, but she was completely unaware he was even there. Her eyes were focused on some unseen point far outside the visible distance out the window.

"Merce, you in there?" Dante asked, confused as to why he was being ignored. As he went to place a hand on her shoulder, he felt a strange, nagging feeling in the back of his mind. _Not now, Dante,_ whispered a voice in his head. The devil hunter pulled his hand away, sliding it into his hip pocket. As he casually tilted his head to the side, he saw Dimitri standing there, hands folded neatly behind his back and an oddly knowing look in his eyes.

Dimitri moved away from the wall, pulling his hands forward and approaching Dante with an admonishing glance. "I advise against probing Mercy's thoughts at the moment. Given the recent events..." Dimitri trailed off, _such as what you may have been involved with that included her last night, _he thought before continuing. "...and this morning's altercation, I have the feeling..." His eyes briefly darted over to Mercy before coming back to Dante as he lowered his voice. "...that any further probing would only result in her becoming even more stubborn." He seemed to be trying to keep his voice below Mercy's hearing range.

_As if that's possible,_ Dante thought to himself before giving a light shrug and turning to Dimitri. "Alright, alright. You win," he conceded before glancing to Mercy one more time and watching her shiver from the chilly breeze. "Eh, she's a big girl anyway. She can still handle herself." He gave Mercy one last concerned look, giving her a gentle pat on the shoulder.

Dimitri's facial expression occasionally matched Mercy's, but there was more of a twitch in his eyebrows, as if displaying a subtle layer of determination. He shifted his eyes from Mercy, to Dante, and finally to the empty space before him. In the lingering lull, his mind was left silent to mull over the possible events of last night. As his thoughts percolated, he was led to a variety of conclusions, each one ranging from mildly awkward to horrifying. _There is no possible way she would ever agree of her own free will...he had to have done something to her. _The priest clenched his fists at his sides, trying to hold his tongue and reserve judgment.

The rapid, staggered thumping of footsteps came from the direction of the stairs. A much louder thump followed, jerking Dimitri out of his thoughts. He looked toward the stairs at the sound of a sharp, human yelp and more thumps.

Dante curiously turned his head, only to wince as he saw Andrea come tumbling face first down the hardwood stairs. Her arms were out in front of her, flailing slightly as she tried to grab something to stop her fall. It was to no avail, however, as she reached the bottom of the stairs, slamming her face into the floor with a sharp thud that made Dante wince. After she did not move for several seconds, he walked across the room to assess her condition. "Yikes. You okay, kid?"

Andrea remained on the floor for a moment before letting out a harsh groan. "Nngh...Fuck..." She slowly brought one hand to the side of her head, forcing herself to roll over. She stared blankly at the ceiling, waiting for the stars to fade from her vision. A bruise was in the beginning stages on her forehead, already visible against her pale skin. "God damn," she grunted as her vision returned to normal. Once Dante came into view, her dazed expression turned to one of mild irritation. "Oh. You're still here," she muttered quietly as the throbbing headache began to set in.

Dante snorted, tilting his head to the side and looking at Andrea. "What do you mean 'You're still here?' Granted, I was gonna blow this joint before Merce woke up, but I woke up to this guy..." he said as he tilted his head over toward Dimitri, "...starin' at the damage." The devil hunter gave himself a moment to examine Andrea visually. When he had met her last night, the area was only dimly lit by the full moon shining through the window. He had never seen her full appearance until now. Taking her actions last night into account, finally seeing her real appearance left him mildly surprised.

Andrea had a rather stout and dense build, which showed some signs of being rather out of shape. Her figure overall was dominated by a large and prominent chest and wide hips. She wore a rather wrinkled blue T-shirt with many bloodstains and tears, including a large one that exposed her undefined stomach. Wrinkled black athletic pants covered her legs down to the calves. Her face was shaped like a sort of rounded heart, with a strong jaw, a prominent, round chin and otherwise rather plain features. Her eyes were round, narrow and wide-set, with blue-tinted, gray irises and the shadows of perpetual exhaustion. Her skin was pale from lack of exposure to the sun, with only a tinge of pink in her cheeks. Her hair was a rather dull blonde and fell to her shoulders in thick, unkempt clumps with the texture of corn silk.

She turned her vision from Dante to Dimitri as Dante indicated him. Rather than turning back to Dante, she raised her head in the other direction to focus her attention on Mercy. Reaching out and grabbing hold of the nearest object on the wall, she struggled to pull herself to her feet. She barely managed to stand up straight before she felt shooting pains going through her stomach, chest and head. She let out a yelp before dropping back to the floor, this time landing on her rear end and pulling down a large demon horn, the object she had grasped to pull herself up. "Shit..." she whined, curling up with her arms around her stomach.

The sound of Andrea and the horn hitting the floor made Mercy snap back to reality. She pulled her arms around herself, shivering from the bitter cold, before glancing over to see the other woman curled up on the floor, shaking in agony, and an ornamental demon horn trophy laying near her hand. The huntress rushed over to Andrea's location, roughly shoving Dante into the nearby wall hard enough to knock the wind out of him. She came to one knee next to Andrea and began to examine her injuries. "Doesn't look like fallin' down the stairs affected her too much," she observed, attempting to pull Andrea's legs away from her chest in spite of her resistance. "C'mon, mate. I need to look ya over." As she freed Andrea's torso for examination, her eyes widened and she let out an alarmed gasp. "...Bloody hell..." She clenched her teeth for a moment, raising her head to look at Dimitri and Dante. "Oi. I'm gonna need one of you two to help me get her to the couch in the back. This does not look good."

Dante took a step forward, lightly flexing his arms out in front of him. "Gotcha covered, babe." He casually glanced over at Mercy and Andrea, catching sight of the same wound that Mercy was looking at. The sight made him visibly wince before he leaned down, taking Andrea's upper body in his arms. "Yeesh. That's gonna leave a mark," he commented, waiting for Mercy to pick up Andrea's legs.

Mercy leaned down and grabbed hold of Andrea's legs, trying to ignore her groans of pain, as well as not to injure her in the movement. "Ten to one it came from last night," Mercy pointed out as she and Dante lifted Andrea from the floor. As they moved toward a back hall, she raised her head and looked toward Dimitri. "We're gonna need you too," she instructed before looking back down at Andrea.

Andrea shuddered from the pain in her chest, and the other two could feel it. Somehow, she managed to speak a few words through the pain in her body. "Then why the hell...am I only feeling it now?" She strained her eyes to look up at Dante, as if demanding an answer from him.

Dante could only briefly twitch his shoulders in a shrug. Any larger movements could risk dropping Andrea and harming her even more. "Beats me, kid. Maybe that berserker thing kills pain for a long time or somethin'." _A whole night is a damn long time not to feel it. Even I feel it after a couple hours. _

Dimitri returned Mercy's brief eye contact with a nod of acknowledgment. "Understood." He began to walk slowly behind them, sliding a hand into the pocket of his black tweed suit jacket. As he continued to walk, he groped about inside the pocket for a moment before pulling something out and concealing it in the palm of his hand. He lingered behind the other three, lifting one hand and adjusting his glasses before continuing to follow the others.

Mercy carefully led Dante into the nearby room, aiming for a small and threadbare green couch near the wall. "Just lay 'er down here," she directed, watching Andrea diligently. "I just hope this isn't as bad as it looks," she whispered to Dante before they both laid Andrea on the couch, facing up.

Dante tilted his head toward Mercy, muttering to her. "I just hope it isn't worse." As he looked toward Andrea, they made brief eye contact. His expression toward her was equally apathetic and chiding. _You know, kid, if you had just bailed when you had the chance and let me handle him, this wouldn't be happening. _He raised his shoulders in his trademark shrug, putting his hands in his pockets.

Andrea met Dante's detached expression with a dirty glare. "What's with the look, Wonder Boy?" she groaned dryly, trying to ignore the burning pain in her chest. Not waiting for Dante's answer, she looked back up to Mercy. As their eyes met, Andrea let out a sharp sigh, apparently from shortness of breath. "I have no idea how the hell you do this, Merce. Every time I see you after a mission, you're walkin' around like nobody's business." She hissed under her breath as the pain surged through her again.

The Australian shrugged, letting out an indifferent snort. "You spend long enough fightin' the bastards and you can walk just about anything off." As she finished her sentence, she and Dante gave one another a knowing look, but said nothing. She broke eye contact with him to watch for Dimitri as he came down the hall.

Dante briefly pursed his lips as he returned his focus to Andrea. "I tried to warn ya, kid. You didn't take the chance when you had it. Hell, you had _two _chances. Didn't take either one of 'em. Now look at ya. Maybe next time shit happens and I have to get involved, you'll listen." He leaned on the wall, completely unaffected by Andrea's looming glare. _She's not gonna get far in that state, _he thought to himself. _The kid just has no sense. _

Andrea's expression quickly grew even more sour. She tried to pull herself up, but a shooting pain kept her down. All she could do at that moment was give Dante an even dirtier glare. "Fuck you," she retorted to his observation, biting back the urge to scream in pain.

Dante's response to the insult was a quirk of his brow and a mildly offended expression. "Is that how you repay someone who saved your ass from bein' turned into demon chow?" He gave a slight huff and turned his eyes away from her. _Seriously. Is nobody thankful for the work I do these days? I save two people's lives, and what thanks do I get? One says she doesn't need my help, the other tells me to go fuck myself. Wondering why I even stick around. _

"It's how I repay someone whose idea of saving me is pointing a fucking gun in my face!" Andrea raised her voice, ending with another small grunt. She sighed to herself, looking down at her shredded shirt and the wound below it. "Merce, hurry up and look me over would ya?" she demanded. _Damn, I'm lucky. Wonder Boy over there has no idea what the impetus for me sticking around last night was. She's standin' right next to me. _

Dante held his arms out, raising them in a nonchalant shrug. "How the hell was I supposed to know that havin' a gun pointed at you would make you go apeshit and want to kill everything?" He ran a hand back through his hair, staring off into space as he awaited her response. _Not like I wanted to point the gun in your face. Most people woulda bolted the first time I told them to. _

The counterpoint never came. Upon hearing Dante's reply, Andrea could only remain silent._ Dammit,_ she thought to herself,_ Snowflake's got me there. _The human groaned to herself, turning her head away from Dante. "...Whatever."

As she finished her reply, a nagging feeling of faintness seemed to come over her. Her vision became somewhat hazy, and the pain in her body felt as if it was suddenly going numb. _M...Merce? Something's wrong. _Her blurring vision showed that Mercy did not react at all, as if she didn't hear her._ Mercy! Dammit, do something! I can't feel...my...Oh God. _

The realization quickly came to her that she was not actually saying anything. Her lips were not moving, her vocal cords were not producing sound. She tried to lift her arm, or even a finger, but her muscles would not budge. She could still hear the muffled chaos of sound around her and see the washed-out ghosts of faces and objects. The only sensations she could feel were a dull ache in her chest and a lead weight sinking into her stomach. She wanted to move, to leap from the couch, but her body would not yield to the panic signals her brain sent.

The few sounds she could make out began dissolving into inscrutable white noise. The only sound she could still discern was the throbbing of the carotid artery in her head. The nebulous fields of color left in her vision began to appear like the picture of an antique television with poor reception. Her brain seemed to be firing signals to the rest of her body to fight whatever it was that held her down, but her limbs remained in place, dead to the brain's dire warnings.

"...Kid? Hey, you still with us?" Dante leaned over Andrea from the arm of the couch, seeing that she had fallen silent after delivering her final word against him. The severity of her wounds and her sudden lapse of consciousness were enough evidence of the true gravity of the situation. _Oh hell, _Dante thought to himself. He subtly bit on the inside of his lip, shifting his eyes from Andrea to Mercy, then to Dimitri and back to Andrea. _Dammit, I didn't mean it like this. _He glanced back to Mercy, who was still examining Andrea's wounds.

As the extent of the injuries became clear, Mercy's face grew more livid than before. She moved aside slightly, letting the two men see the extent of the damage. There were two small claw lacerations and a larger one running from below Andrea's right breast to the center of her stomach. The immediate area around the lacerations had turned a deep black. Upon further examination of the wound, Mercy gave a stilted sigh of relief. "Doesn't look like it got to her heart..." she stated, briefly raising her head toward Dimitri and Dante. "...But I doubt she's gonna live through this." Mercy chewed on her thumbnail.

Dante's face briefly twisted into a disgusted grimace as he saw the complete wounds. "Eugh. Yeah, that one's gonna be there a while." His disgust seemed to turn briefly to morbid curiosity, such as one would have when examining the aftermath of a horrible accident after the shock wore off. "...Uh, Merce, what exactly _is_ that anyway? Looks nasty." He finally forced himself to avert his eyes, looking at the nearby wall. Much of his earlier sentiment that Andrea got what she deserved had faded. _Feel like a horse's ass yet, Dante?_

Before Mercy could provide an answer, Dimitri spoke. "Those wounds are the result of some kind of toxin. The discolored areas around the wounds are a sign that the tissue is necrotizing." Even with the direness of his words, Dimitri spoke with a dissonant, almost unnerving, calm in his voice. He still had the object from earlier palmed away in his left hand, as if ready to use it. Standing perfectly still, he folded both hands behind his back and wore an unperturbed expression.

Dante's attention turned to Dimitri as he spoke, but the Frenchman's words barely made sense to the devil hunter. After a rather awkward silence as he tried to process Dimitri's observation, Dante cast a glance to Mercy, visible confusion in his eyes. "...Merce," he muttered, "can you translate that to English for me, babe?" Though he didn't quite get the gist of Dimitri's words, Dante's gut told him that it was not good news. This time, though, he couldn't blame the prosciutto.

Mercy responded to Dante with a nod before looking back to Andrea. "She got poisoned and it's causin' the flesh around the wounds to die. Thing is, I've got no idea how we're gonna go about treatin' it. There's two things they can do. Either the dead tissue's removed or they use maggots to clean it out." Her expression was an amalgam of disgust and worry.

Dante's own look of revulsion deepened as he tried to avert his eyes from Andrea's wounds. "Ugh." _I just had to ask. Poor kid. I doubt she's the type to want maggots crawlin' around inside her. _ He felt a trace of nausea tugging at his stomach. _It's a good thing I haven't eaten anything today._

Andrea's body would still not yield to her brain's demands to move. Through the deep fog that obscured her senses, she could distinctly hear the word "maggots" echoing clearer than the veins throbbing in her head. Whether it was the actual sound or just a delirium-induced hallucination, the word echoed over and over in her mind. Each time she heard it, she could feel her brain screaming at her body to react. _Move, damn it...MOVE! _She occasionally felt the sensation of something squirming across her skin and inside her stomach. Her body would not even so much as twitch in reaction to the feeling.

"AAAAAAAAAAAH!"

"Bloody hell!"  
Mercy instinctively jumped as she heard Andrea's voice break through the barrier of unconsciousness. She looked back down to see that Andrea was blindly screaming at something, though it was unclear what. She caught a glimpse of the look in Andrea's eyes, and her expression turned to silent apprehension. Despite the situation suddenly becoming much more urgent, Mercy somehow managed to remain calm enough to speak. "Piss. This just went from bad to worse. She's gone berserk."

Andrea's eyes were open wide, and the right eye seemed to drift off slightly to the right. There was a distinct haze in them as she stared blankly at the air above her. All she seemed to be able to do was continue to scream in terror at something neither Mercy, Dimitri nor Dante could discern. After some time of being completely still, she suddenly jerked forward, her voice becoming somewhat hoarse from screaming. She flailed her arms out, apparently trying to strike out at something. Even through this, she seemed completely numb to the pain in her chest.

"Shit! Andrea!" Mercy moved her body away in time to avoid being hit by Andrea's flailing limbs. Her previous state of calm was broken by Andrea's sudden awakening. She kept her attention on her before poising herself to make an attempt to keep her still. However, it quickly became apparent that it would take more force to restrain Andrea than her currently fragile body could sustain. She silently glanced to Dimitri and Dante with an urgent and demanding look. "Oi! I could use some help with this!" She glanced back at Andrea with a sliver of anxiety.

Dante dashed over toward Mercy and the flailing Andrea. "I'm on it!" He positioned himself between Mercy and Andrea, attempting to keep Andrea from hitting Mercy with her arms. After a fraction of a second of watching Andrea, he lunged forward a step and brought his arms down. His hands caught her arms, holding them still. "Whoa there!" He came to one knee, firmly pinning Andrea in place. His physical strength was enough to hold her down without exerting much force. He was able to restrain her without further damage. "Cool it. You freak out like that again and you might hurt yourself." He tried to remain calm as she squirmed beneath him. Sighing, he adjusted himself so that he could look back up at Mercy. After thinking for a moment, he came to the conclusion that Mercy's mention of maggots was the catalyst for Andrea's sudden panic. "Babe, I think she could hear us. You brought up maggots right before she freaked out."

A being with a shock of white hair came closer to Andrea, his face barely visible in the white noise of her vision. She found herself unable to move again, but this time it was obvious that this was due to an outside force pinning her down. The white-haired figure seemed to be looking down at her, but his expression was still unclear. _...Dante? _The being's resemblance to Dante was uncanny, but as it got closer, it became more apparent that it was not him. From what she could discern, his hair looked to be slicked back and one of his eyes was round, glassy and slightly larger than the other. A faint aura seemed to surround him, forming the vague image of a devil. Strangely, the vision of this figure left her feeling somewhat less fearful. _Dante? ...no. You're not Dante. _ The figure did not speak back, or he did speak but she could not hear.

Dante felt Andrea's limbs finally go slack beneath him. He took a deep breath and sighed with relief. "That's it, kid. Chill out. We'll think of somethin'," he said to her without knowing if she could hear him. His attention went back to Mercy. "So..." he uttered in an attempt to fill the silence. "...Merce. You got any other ideas besides maggots and gutting the kid alive?" He pulled himself up off Andrea, but kept a close eye on her in case she panicked again.

The huntress dolefully shook her head, looking away from Dante and Andrea. "Nah, I don't," she stated plainly, a tinge of looming disquietude in her voice. "I'm sorry." As she continued to watch Andrea, she turned away from Dante and Dimitri. _I'm such a fool. None of this would've happened if I was able to wake up and come downstairs in time. I hope you can forgive me, Andrea. But knowing you, it ain't likely, what with the way you hold grudges for years and all. _When she was sure neither of them could see, she bit her lip.

"You're so quick to abandon all hope, Mercy."

Dimitri's voice broke the silence. He continued to speak, retaining the calm that by now had become somewhat of a trademark. "You may not have thought of the solution, but I have." He slid his hand down into the pocket of his coat and it visibly closed around something.

Mercy's worry turned to slight irritation as she turned to look at Dimitri. "Well? Let's see this miracle then." She turned to completely face them and crossed her arms with a judgmental glance.

Dante's expression was more of curiosity than skepticism. "I'm with her. Let's see what you've got." He tilted his head, looking down at Andrea for a moment before looking back to Dimitri.

Dimitri pulled his hand from his pocket, and a faint green glow could be seen between his fingers. "We will cure her by means of this. As for why I didn't mention it earlier, I was waiting for you to get her still. It would have been hard to use this had she been fighting." With the other two watching, he finally opened his hand. Resting in his hand was a star-shaped, crystalline object with a strange green glow, about the size of his palm. He held the object by two points, delicately balancing it between his thumb and two fingertips.

Mercy's eyes visibly widened, as if a light bulb had come on above her head. "Why the hell didn't I think of that?" she asked to no one in particular, looking back at Andrea, whose breathing had slowed to a state of relaxation."And more importantly, do you think it'll work?" Though her question was posed legitimately, it seemed that a weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

Dante's own eyes widened a bit and he pursed his lips briefly. "Hah! How 'bout that." His familiar grin had returned when he took in the sight of the green crystal star in Dimitri's hand. _Heh, that's a Vital Star. If anything'll cure what ails ya, it's one of those things. I've seen them in different sizes, but the bigger ones seem to heal more. I don't exactly know where they came from, but I never leave home without 'em. _He made brief eye contact with Dimitri. "Again, I'm with Merce. You think those'll work on a human? I'm aware of 'em workin' on demons..." He paused to lightly thump his chest with his palm. "...but I don't know if they work the same for humans." As he finished speaking his gaze turned to Andrea._ You better come outta this alive, kid. _He stepped aside to give clearance for Dimitri to apply the Vital Star.

Dimitri glanced toward Mercy, gesturing with his hand to call her over. "Mercy, I would prefer that you apply this Vital Star to Andrea's wounds. I imagine that Andrea wishes to preserve her modesty." As he spoke, he looked toward Andrea. Her shirt had been torn almost completely away, leaving barely a scrap covering the most intimate areas of her chest. Dimitri quickly turned his head away in an attempt to avoid giving the impression of staring.

Mercy rose to her feet, taking the Vital Star from Dimitri's hand. "Figured you'd say that. Oh well. Only one way to find out if this is gonna work." She moved back toward Andrea, kneeling down at her side and holding out the Vital Star. Taking a moment to locate the precise area of the injury, she carefully placed the green crystal over the claw wounds. _Man, this sucks, _she thought to herself. _It sucks when __you know there's no God, but you really need a miracle. _She watched Andrea intently, waiting for the effects of the Vital Star.

The moment the stone touched her bare flesh, Andrea's entire body began to tremble. The tremors spread from her chest and slowly radiated out through her extremities. The crystal's glow began to fade, and Andrea's wounds seemed to turn a deep green. The blackened tissue looked as if there was something glowing behind it before the flesh itself turned deep red. Andrea's breaths became deeper and more labored with loud wheezing sounds behind them.

The vision of the white-haired figure seemed to fade away, leaving only a field of white that suddenly filled with a spectrum of color. Andrea could feel a sudden warmth in her chest, accompanied by a tingling sensation that slowly spread throughout her torso. Her heart began pounding hard, but there was no pain in its work, only a dull, stinging ache in the center of her chest. The tingling and heat quickly spread to her shoulders and thighs, leaving a strange chill against her chest that made her audibly gasp. This chill followed the heat in her limbs as it spread out along her extremities, finishing out at her hands and feet. As the chill faded, she felt the ebb and flow of her blood through the slight pulsing in her fingertips. It was as if someone poured a large bucket of ice-cold water over her, suddenly waking her up. As her vision finally cleared, she could see Mercy and Dante peering down at her from above.

"Hey kiddo. Welcome back. Thought we were gonna lose ya for a minute there." Dante flashed Andrea a very brief smirk before pulling himself to his feet, walking over to the nearby armchair, and flopping into its cushions. _It's official now. That was about as close as you can cut it. _

Though her senses had returned, Andrea still felt as if her cranial cavity was full of helium. "What the hell..." she groaned, shifting her eyes over to stare at Mercy as if waiting for answers.

Upon hearing Andrea speak, Mercy let out an audible sigh of relief, as if a weight had just been lifted off her shoulders. Taking a moment to compose herself, she looked down to make eye contact with Andrea. "Well, mate, to put it short, you got poisoned. That demon's claw had venom on it that kills human tissue cells and basically causes your skin and muscles to die. Apparently it was gettin' to your vitals just now. That's why you passed out." Mercy began walking to the other side of the couch, sitting down on the arm.

Andrea went slightly livid at Mercy's explanation. "Necrosis. They use..." Her hands trembled as she continued to speak, an abrupt silence cutting her off for a moment. "They use maggots to treat that," she observed, her breath becoming stilted. "Mercy...you know I'd rather die than be exposed to those things!" She clenched a fist tightly as her pupils began to sharply dilate. "How the fuck did I make it out of this! What the hell did you do to me!" She tried to pull herself up, displaying the same strange behavior as earlier as she focused on Mercy.

Dante, on reflex, leaped off the nearby chair and lunged over, placing himself between Andrea and Mercy. "Whoa! Hold it! Chill out, kid!" Making sure Andrea had no clearance to get close to Mercy, he remained calm and leveled his face with Andrea's. "Maggots weren't involved. We saw you freak out the first time." _Seriously. I almost feel sorry for this girl. She doesn't seem to be all there. _

Andrea sharply gasped before reaching up and roughly shoving Dante away from her. Catching her breath, she oscillated her vision between Dante and Mercy. "Alright then..." She took a deep gasp, her mouth hanging open a bit. After some hesitation, she spoke again. "How the hell am I not dead?" Her body was still visibly shaking, as she had used what little physical strength she had left to push Dante away.

Without missing a beat, Dante jerked a thumb in Dimitri's direction. "Thank that guy," he responded abruptly. _Which reminds me. How in the hell did that guy get a Vital Star? _For some reason, he had not yet looked directly at Andrea.

Andrea followed Dante's cue, glancing over to see Dimitri standing to the side, hands folded neatly behind his back. He, too, seemed to be avoiding looking directly at her, though it was more visible with him. He was facing away from her, staring ahead with his back to the couch. Andrea focused her eyes a bit, tilting her head. "What the hell is _he_ doing here?" she asked, turning to look in Mercy's direction to find out that the huntress had inexplicably gone missing. The sight of the empty space on the couch made Andrea throw up her hands and groan loudly. "Son of a bitch..."

Dante let out a chuckle, leaning back in the chair and looking up. "She got up and ran off just now. Headed upstairs for somethin'." The results of Andrea throwing her hands up left a bit more of her visible than Dante felt comfortable seeing. _Come on, kid, you're killin' me here! You're bigger up there than Merce! _he thought to himself, turning his gaze away from her.

Andrea grunted. "The hell are you laughin' at, Wonder Boy?" She crossed her arms over her chest, but immediately pulled them away when she felt her bare arms touch bare flesh. Glancing down, she could see that the only thing covering her chest was the tattered scrap of fabric that was once called a shirt. Her stomach was completely bare and what little was left of the shirt seemed to be in danger of falling off at the slightest movement of her body. Her face took on a redder hue than Dante's coat as she huddled up on the couch, arms securely covering her chest. She avoided any eye contact other than watching Dante to see if he was staring. "Damn it, damn it, damn it, damn it..." she muttered through clenched teeth. She was visibly shivering as well, likely due to the cold air blowing in from the broken window at the front of the office.

Dante, however, managed not to stare. He simply did not have any interest. _She might have some big tracts of land, but she just ain't my type. Doesn't look like she's the right age, either. _He leaned back in the chair, staring up at the off-white stucco ceiling. He did not even seem to notice Andrea's visible shivering.

Dimitri raised his head, turning back to look at Andrea. When he saw that her arms were covering her chest enough to spare him from the appearance of staring at her, he turned around completely. The effects of the chilly air on her were now apparent to him. He reached up to the collar of his black wool coat and pulled it off, sliding the sleeves off his arms. Beneath the coat he wore a pressed black dress shirt, its collar raised and holding a white tab collar within. "Andrea, if I may..." He approached her carefully from behind and rested his coat against her shoulders.

Andrea bristled sharply at the wool resting against her nearly bare shoulders. She turned her head back to see Dimitri there, holding out his coat to her. She remained silent for a moment, unsure of how to reply. She took notice of his tab collar, a faint grimace appearing on her face. _...Damn it. This guy's a priest. Yep, this is totally gonna end perfectly well. _Considering the circumstances for a moment, she pulled the coat over her shoulders and slid her hands into the sleeves, which were far too long for her arms. "Uh...yeah, thanks." Ever since she first saw him, Dimitri had left Andrea with an unsettling feeling that was only exacerbated by the sight of the garment marking him as a man of the cloth. Her earlier state of being either in constant pain or completely unconscious did not let her take notice before.

Dimitri quickly picked up on Andrea's unease, observing her with a concerned expression. "Is something else troubling you?" He briefly glanced at her eyes, noticing they were fixed on him, but not making eye contact. Remaining silent for the moment, he awaited her answer.

"What is this, confessional?" she replied with a sardonic tone. "Father, I have sinned. I've been practicing witchcraft since my early teens. You've probably sinned too by helping a heathen," she continued, the sarcasm becoming more intense. "So what'll it be? Ten Hail Marys?" She leaned back and watched for his response, seeming, for some reason, to relax. As unsettling as his presence felt, his coat wrapped over her felt quite comfortable. It was certainly better than her previous state, at least.

At hearing Andrea's acerbic response to his question, Dimitri cracked a soft smile and chuckled at a volume she could not hear. "Non, non. That will not be necessary. The need for kindness supersedes the sins of those who need it." He folded his hands neatly behind his back, looking at Andrea over the top of his silver-frames. "Were you worried that I would have treated you differently if I had known you were a witch beforehand?"

Andrea gave a single, offhand nod. "Pretty much. I was afraid you'd want to have me burned at the stake or something." She still refused to make eye contact with Dimitri, preferring instead to cross her arms, her head tilted to the side.

Dimitri's eyes briefly widened in mild surprise before he shook his head fervently. "Saints, no! I would never. Nobody wishes that kind of fate on anyone these days..." A brief flash of mild disgust appeared on his face. "...save for a few fundamentalists and zealots." He pulled his arms out from behind his back, raising them up in front of him. The disgust on his face filtered into his voice. "Some people just think that their own holiness is of more importance than kindness to their fellow human beings." He cleared up his distaste with a soft chuckle. "But I digress. Look at the sort of company I keep. Dante's a demon, for example. And Mercy-" He was cut off by a hand lightly striking the back of his head.

"Doesn't matter," Mercy curtly finished Dimitri's sentence as she brought her hand back down. She turned her head toward Andrea and lifted up her other arm, holding some kind of black garment. "Oi, Andrea. I-"

"What the hell, Merce? You coulda gave me some kind of warning!" Andrea put on a painfully exaggerated faux Australian accent. "Oi, sheila! I'll be back in a shake!" The others collectively winced, the men tensely awaiting Mercy's reaction. Andrea reverted to her normal voice as she continued to speak. "How hard is that?"she spat, throwing her hands into the air.

Mercy remained silent as she heard Andrea's pitiful rendition of her native vernacular. In response, she only raised a hand to her face and gripped her temples with her thumb and fingertip, letting her face sink into her palm. She shook her head and let out a barely audible groan. _Nobody's talked like that since I was in grammar school. _She inhaled sharply and displayed her usual stony expression, holding out the black garment to Andrea. "I brought you somethin' to throw on."

Andrea reached up and took hold of the garment, unraveling it to reveal a black button down shirt. She closely examined it, wondering to herself if it would fit. She pulled herself up, the effects of the poison and Vital Star from earlier leaving her still somewhat weakened and disoriented. Covering her chest with the garment, she left Dimitri's wool coat behind on the couch as she ducked out of sight into the hallway. As she sloughed off the tattered remains of her previous shirt and slid her arms in the sleeves of the button-down, she could hear laughter coming from the room. The voice distinctly belonged to Dante.

The devil hunter could no longer contain himself, and was now engaged in a fit of laughter. His gloved hand partially covered his face, and he bore a wide grin. Occasionally he would glance up at Mercy, who was clearly not laughing. "D-did you hear her, Merce! That...that accent...it...pfft..." He dissolved into another laughing fit, unable to complete his sentence.

Even Dimitri could not resist the urge to let out a few small chuckles. "She really has quite the talent for mimicry, non?" Though he was aware of Mercy glaring hard at him, his soft smile remained unshaken.

Mercy's expression was a mix of annoyance and general humorlessness. She seemed to be preparing to say something at first, but as she watched Dante nearly fall over laughing, the only response she could muster was a roll of her eyes. "Oy..." she muttered under her breath before flopping down on the right side of the couch, flinging one leg up over the other and staring at the ceiling.

After some time, and after the laughter had died down, Andrea returned to the room wearing the shirt she had been given. The black button-down managed to adequately fit her large figure. Its collar rose unusually high, and the sleeves appeared somewhat tight. Reaching up with one hand, Andrea carefully unfastened the top button on the shirt, letting the collar fall loose and open. The garment itself seemed to be made of high-quality, thick-weave cotton, which provided a bit of a barrier against the chilly air. Any air of dignity the shirt could have given her, however, was quickly destroyed by the ripped black workout pants and the mass of disheveled blonde hair on her head. Before she sat down, she reached over the back of the couch and took hold of Dimitri's abandoned coat. "Hey. You want this back?" She walked over to him, placing the coat on the back of the chair in which he sat. Before he could reply, she took a few steps and sat on the other side of the couch, putting space between Mercy and herself. She crossed her legs over each other, in the opposite direction to Mercy's. After a moment, she also crossed her arms. Occasionally, she would feel a twinge of pain in her stomach. Her mind echoed the events of the past night, playing them back inside her head. _I don't know what's gonna give me worse nightmares. That hairy bastard that wanted me for a nighttime snack, or what I did to him while I was going apeshit. _She let out a sigh of resignation and mild irritation. _As if my insomnia wasn't bad enough already... _Her eyes were fixed on some invisible point in the direction of the hall, far beyond Ave Maria's walls.

Moments later, the silence was broken by the distant thump of something hitting the wooden floor of the office. Someone, or something, was muttering and making more thumping sounds as it walked about. As the footsteps increased their pace, the muttering became louder and clearer, a distinct Scottish accent becoming apparent in the voice.

"Bloody hell..." Lori muttered as she wandered around the empty, ransacked office. She had entered through the broken window, vaulting over the windowsill. The rancid stench of devil blood was almost fresh in the air. As she examined the scene, she caught sight of the broken pieces of Mercy's chair. She followed the small trickles of blood with her eyes, ending at a broken chair leg. The chair leg itself caught her attention, and she picked it up from the floor for a closer look. Faded red stains on the wider end, along with trace amounts of demonic energy, indicated that the leg had been used against a demon.

Trying to keep her cool, Lori kept the leg in her hand and gave the room a final glance. She caught a glimpse of a shiny object out of the corner of her eye and looked over. In the corner of the room, still wedged in the wooden floor, was a small steel dagger with a grip wrapped in black leather. As she caught sight of the blade, a feeling of sudden realization swept over her, followed by shock. "...Oh god." She grabbed hold of the dagger, glancing around the room as her heart began to race.

"...MERCE!"

Mercy and Andrea both jumped sharply, Mercy leaping up from the couch. She slowly moved past Andrea and Dante, peering down the hall. She could see the broken window from the hallway and noticed that even more of the glass was missing from the bottom of the window sash. Walking down the hall, she could see Lori standing there with a fresh look of panic on her face. Despite the bartender's visible anxiety, Mercy's forcefully neutral expression remained. "Lori. Chill pill. Take one. Maybe with a whisky chaser or somethin' to calm your nerves. You're worse than Andrea."

Hearing Mercy's voice followed by seeing her seemed to ease Lori's mind somewhat. "Oh...Hey Merce," she sighed, followed by a nervous chuckle. "Sorry about that. It's just..." She cleared her throat, trying to stop the trembling in her hands. She reached into her black denim jacket, pulling out a large metal hip flask and screwing off the cap. She took a rather large gulp of whatever alcoholic substance was inside before wiping off her lips, screwing the cap back on the flask and storing it back in her coat. The shot of booze seemed to do the trick, as she was much calmer and no longer shaking. "It's just that I was comin' here anyway ta tell ya about somethin' I saw last night. I saw the window busted out..." She paused and gestured to the remnants of the window. "...An' everything in here was trashed. Then I found this," she held up the black-handled dagger in one hand and the broken, bloodied chair leg in the other. "I guess I just assumed the worst..." She glanced back at the dagger before staring at it. _Oh god...that's_ _right! _She glanced back to Mercy with a look of urgency. "Is the Chief alright? This thing belongs to er."

"Yeah. She's fine," Mercy replied, averting her eyes from Lori and looking back down the hall. _Now, anyway... _She turned back to Lori, tilting her head back in the direction of the room at the end of the hallway. "She's back here."

Lori immediately headed down the hall at Mercy's instruction, looking around to see Dante kicked back in one of the armchairs with his legs up over an arm and Dimitri leaning against the wall next to a window. She turned her head to the right, finally catching sight of Andrea with her arms tightly crossed over her large chest, her head just slightly turned in Lori's direction, and her eyes focused on the dead air in front of her. Nothing else seemed to be outwardly wrong with her, much to Lori's relief. Lori gave the blonde woman a slight, relaxed smile before taking a seat on the couch next to her. She moved a hand up to rest it on Andrea's shoulder, only then noticing Dante and Dimitri both looking at her silently, as if demanding some kind of explanation. "...Oh," she uttered as she nonchalantly rubbed Andrea's back, but kept her eyes up at the men. "Oi, lads. Sorry about the..." She wore the same sideways grin that Dante was used to seeing her with, but it had a vein of awkwardness. "...heh, entrance."

Dante raised his shoulders in a nonchalant shrug. "Hey, not a problem." He briefly rolled his shoulders back before lifting his arms up and lacing his fingers behind his head, leaning back against the back of the couch. "So, Barkeep, what brings you to this neck of the woods?"

Dimitri responded to Lori with a polite nod from the wall on the other side of the room. "There is no doubt the spectacle in Mercy's office caused a great deal of alarm for you. It's fortunate no one we know was lost." As he finished the sentence, his gaze fell on Mercy and Andrea.

Before Lori responded, she pulled the hip flask from her jacket, taking another quick chug. "I wanted to tell Merce about somethin' I saw last night..." Her gaze slowly drifted around the room until she cast a brief glance back down the hall. "...but it looks like you guys had somethin' better to talk about than the shite I see when it's the wee hours and I'm pished." She let out a gruff sigh and slung one leg up over her knee.

Dante pulled his legs from the arm of the chair, setting them down on the floor as he leaned forward. "I might as well." He lightly sucked on his lower lip before he began to recount the events of the previous night. "I was on my way to my place. Heard somethin' from around here that sounded pretty nasty. Decided I should probably check it out. When I showed up, the window was busted out," he paused to tilt his head in Andrea's direction. "She was standin' there with a ten foot tall hairball ready to have a midnight snack..." Dante continued to recount the story in detail, but stopped when he noticed Lori looking as if she was going to fall asleep. "Alright, alright. Long story short. The kid snapped, the demon got his ass kicked, and now I owe Merce five grand." As he spoke of his ever-increasing debt, Dante pulled himself back against the chair, arms crossed behind his head. _Such is life, _he thought to himself. _Wonder how long before I end up owing Andrea a pound of flesh. _

Lori let out a dry chuckle, tucking her flask away into her jacket. "I wanna know why Merce can get her jobs done without destroyin' thousands of dollars worth of other people's stuff." She leaned against the arm of the chair, her eyes subtly drifting in Andrea's direction. They were focused on Andrea's chest. The half-unbuttoned collar left a hint of bare skin visible, but for some reason Lori was the only one paying attention. One corner of her mouth bent into a subtle smirk.

Andrea was rather quick to pick up on Lori's lecherous gaze, and looked none too amused. "I think the rest of us are more interested in what brings you here in the first place," she remarked with a harsh, chastening tone.

The tone of Andrea's voice made Lori avert her eyes back to the rest of the group. "Oh, right. About that..." She raised a hand and scratched her temple before continuing. "I was up in the middle of the night after sleepin' off the booze in my system. Couldn't get back to sleep so I decided to work on cleanin' up the lobby. I think it was about four or five in the mornin', thereabouts." She paused speaking, pursing her lips and looking up as she tried to piece together the vague memories of the previous night. "Saw someone walkin' on the opposite street. A man and a younger girl." She directed her eyes to Dimitri briefly. "The guy looked like you. The girl was a pretty lass, couldn't be much older than eighteen. At first I thought the guy was Dimitri so I thought nothin' of it..."

Dimitri suddenly started, letting out a quiet gasp. His posture became more erect and he lowered his glasses. _Someone who looks like me...Dear Saints._ He cleared his throat, noticing as the others looked to him with concern. "Ah, pardon me. Please continue, Lori. This story of yours suddenly has my interest." He went silent again, a mild twitch in his eye.

"Aye, right. About half an hour later, I see him walkin' the other way carryin' somethin'. I got a closer look after a couple seconds...It was the girl from earlier. She looked dead. That's when I knew I had to tell ya. And there was this really creepy feeling in the air. Still gives me the chills." Her gaze idly drifted over to Mercy as she spoke, but she stopped to focus on her.

The color had left Mercy's face and she seemed to be frozen in shock. Her hands were clenched and visibly shaking. Images from this morning's night terror flashed briefly in her mind. Those golden eyes, surrounded by infinite blackness. That unholy grin, framed by predatory fangs. Those ice-cold shadows that consumed her whole. That heavy sickness in the pit of her stomach. She tried with all her strength to fight back those images, but they still pressed their way into her thoughts. With her lips tightly pressed together, she gritted her teeth and shut her eyes tight as she tried to regain her composure.

"Uh...Mercy? You're doing it again." This time, the voice belonged to Andrea. She had leaned in closer to Mercy, close enough for them to make clear eye contact. "You gonna be alright?" she asked, a look of concern forming on her face.

As Andrea's eyes met hers, Mercy instantly forced herself to relax, or at least to play down the signs of trepidation. "...Yeah," she muttered with a slight nod, "Yeah. I'm right." To diffuse a bit more tension, she turned her head away from Andrea and let out a sharp cough before leaning back on the couch, her fingertips tightly gripping the worn fabric of the arm. She briefly licked her lips before letting out a gruff sigh.

By this point, Dante could not help but notice Mercy's lingering tension. He had resolved earlier, on Dimitri's advice, not to pry too much. _There's only one thing I can do right now that won't make Merce want to rearrange my face. _"So, uh, Merce." He made an attempt to lighten the mood, as it seemed to have been his unofficial duty as of late. "What would you say to us tryin' for another night out? You know...to make up for last night?" He cracked a small grin that, if one looked closely enough, seemed somewhat halfhearted.

Dimitri seemed to look slightly paler than usual when he heard Dante's attempt to invite Mercy out once again. _Was one night with her not enough? What is that devil planning?_ The untoward thoughts from earlier were starting to rise in his mind again. For some reason, however, he still did not feel the urge to get into a confrontation with Dante or Mercy. He rested a hand against his chin, his thumb slowly stroking his lips. As he looked around the room and tried to avert his eyes from the others, they suddenly fell upon Lori. _That's it. Before I act, I ought to be sure I am not jumping to conclusions. _At last, he spoke up, addressing the bartender. "Lori, would you mind answering something else for me? It's related to last night."

Lori lowered the flask from her lips, staring over the top of it at Dimitri before finishing the last drops of its contents. "Aye, go ahead. I've got time." She swiftly screwed the cap back on the flask, once again tucking it into her jacket before leaning forward a little, her attention focused on Dimitri.

Dimitri took a few steps over to Lori in an attempt to keep the discussion between the two of them. "I wish to know exactly what happened at the Checkmate last night, regarding Dante and Mercy." He kept his voice somewhat low, trying not to attract too much attention from Mercy or Dante. Andrea, however, was still close enough to hear anything that was said.

Lori leaned a bit closer to Dimitri, her head cocked in a casual tilt and her hand resting on her chin. "Hang on a sec...I'm makin' sure I'm not too drunk to remember it," she remarked with a wry smirk that spread into a slightly wider grin. "Dante and Merce followed me there. They had drinks, fought over a pizza slice, he got a strawberry sundae and some git started takin' the piss. Turns out he was an incubus who wanted to shag Merce and steal her soul, whatever it is horny devils do. He had a square go with Dante..." She trailed off as the close of the story came back to her, her expression suddenly turned more serious. "...and the front lobby got wrecked. I lost about six grand in stock and another four grand in property damage." Her face slowly lost some of its color as the image of a three-inch-deep puddle of fine scotch flooding the Checkmate's floor came back to her. "Three barrels...eighteen hundred each...Ya can't find that stuff out here. An' the tables and chairs...D'ye think I buy 'em from Ikea?" Lori's speech soon dissolved into drunken, incoherent weeping and utterances of slurred expletives.

Andrea brought a palm to her forehead, rolling her eyes as she rested a hand on Lori's shoulder. "Come on, Lori. It can't be _that_ bad. The Checkmate can be fixed up enough in a day to bring more customers, and Dante owes you money. Hell, if things get _really _bad I could dig into my college funds to give you a leg up." She turned on the couch to face the taller woman.

Lori managed to dry up the tears streaming from her eyes, and at least some semblance of pulling herself together. "Ya dun 'ave to do that for me, Chief...I've got it under control." She took a breath and let it out in a deep sigh, reaching for her flask one more time. As she tilted it back to take one more drink, a second passed and nothng came out. She stared into the empty flask for a moment before sighing and screwing the cap on, shoving the container back in her jacket and letting her shoulders sink. "...Damn," she grumbled plaintively, leaning against Andrea with an almost childish pout on her face. "Ah, well. I'll just 'ave ta drop back by my place an' get some more, I suppose."

Dimitri's brief sigh of relief at Lori's relation of last night's events gave way to a soft chuckle and a shake of his head. "I was wondering when you would finally empty that flask." He pulled himself back up onto his feet, turning a brief glance to Mercy and Dante. _I suppose for now, I have dodged a proverbial bullet._ He cracked a small smile as his previous fears were silenced, and looked back to Lori. "At any rate, thank you for putting my worries to rest." He moved back to his previous position, leaning against the far wall past the chair Dante was sitting in.

Of course, the half-devil had ears. Good ones, in fact, as he could hear every word exchanged between Dimitri and Lori. He craned his neck back to glance at the priest with a curious smirk. "I wanna know exactly what you _think_ we did last night. What are you so worried about, Rev?" He chuckled to himself, making brief eye contact with Mercy. _If he's thinkin' what I think he's thinkin', he's no more a saint than I am. Looks like even a man of God can have his mind in the gutter from time to time. _

Dimitri crossed his arms behind his back, tilting his head toward Dante with a markedly deadpan, but still relieved, expression. "I had briefly gotten the impression that you had somehow...taken advantage of Mercy. That is to say, you had convinced her to have sex with you." He paused for a moment to adjust his glasses. "Fortunately, that was not the case."

Dante let out a sharp snort, which soon grew into a roar of laughter. "Hah! I wish!" He briefly gasped before hunching over, resting his hand against his forehead. Finally, he pulled himself up and leaned back on the chair, looking up with a wide grin and a breathless sigh. "Really. I knew from the minute I met her I didn't have a chance in hell." He brought his head down to glance in Dimitri's direction, still wearing the remnants of the same grin. "Man," he chuckled, "do you even _know_ about my luck with women? I'd consider waking up in bed next to some bar fly who can't remember my name a _good_ night."

Mercy, however, was not laughing. The chilling, almost murderous, glare she gave Dante was enough to quickly silence him. Once Dante was quiet, she raised her head to focus on Dimitri. They looked at each other with fixed eye contact for several moments. The way their eyes remained on each other appeared as if they were carrying on a conversation without a single word, but with many volumes.

Dimitri's expression grew serious and focused once more as he turned his attention to the others. "Now that last night's trivialities are behind us, I feel it is time to focus on the situation at hand." He left his perch against the walls, walking out to the middle of the room so that everyone could listen. "By that, I mean what Lori saw earlier this morning." He seemed hesitant to speak at first, but raised his hand up to adjust his glasses. "I know of that man, and it is vital that the four of you do as well."

Andrea's impatience had grown to be more than she could bear. Before Dimitri could continue, she raised her voice to interrupt him. "Well? Who the hell is he? If it's so damn important, get on with it already." She leaned back against the couch, crossing her arms over her chest.

Dimitri visibly narrowed his eyes at Andrea before continuing. "He is an immensely powerful demon, known to this world as Spinel." As he spoke the name, visible shuddering could be seen in his hands. "As of now, he is strong enough to be a serious threat to millions. I have been watching his actions, and Lori's accounts of last night have confirmed my suspicions that he is active within this city. He could be very close by even as we speak." Dimitri became conscious of his trembling, and tried to still it before he spoke again. "It is also certain that he is aware of Dante, Mercy and myself. He is also very likely getting stronger."

Dante pursed his lips together, lifting his head and turning it to Dimitri. "So he knows we're here, huh? Looks like that part of my work's done already. I've already dealt with some pretty tough bastards. This guy can't be too much of a challenge." He slid forward and planted his feet on the floor, briefly cracking his knuckles and wringing his hands. "And if he is, even better. It's about damn time I got a good workout. Any longer and I was gonna have to start cuttin' down on pizza before I get outta shape." He paused to lightly pat his stomach, which was still very well-toned. _Hah, like that's ever gonna happen,_ he thought to himself with a smirk. "So, got a location? Anything else I need to know before I hand his ass to him, wrapped with a pretty red bow on top?"

Lori swung her upper body forward a bit, pulling herself up to a standing position and pulling off her coat. The coat dropped back onto Andrea's lap, revealing a set of rather muscular-looking arms. "Hope ya don't mind company, Dante. If this git's as bad as I think he is, count me in. I've kinda always wanted to save the world." To make a point, she pounded a leather gloved fist into her palm with a wide, cocky grin. She pumped both arms in front of her before letting them hang down at her sides. "'Course, I gotta run back to the Checkmate and grab Madainn Solus before we go..."

"_Both_ of you should just kibosh it and forget about it." Mercy's voice seemed even colder than usual, as well as the glare she was giving both Dante and Lori. She rose to her feet, taking on a more aggressive stance and crossing her arms. "I am the only one of us who has the right to kill Spinel. If it comes down to it, I swear I'll kill both of you for the chance to slit his throat." Behind her cold glare, she could feel a black shadow looming at her back, and a strange, cold aura chilling her to the bone. _It won't be much longer now. I'm so close to slaughtering him...all I need to know is where he is. _

Mercy's sudden change of demeanor took even Dante by surprise. The look in her eyes told him she was quite serious about killing him to get to Spinel. He lifted a hand as if trying to calm her down. "It's not gonna have to come to that, babe. You want me to step aside, I'll step aside." He brought his head forward and leveled his eyes with hers, making sure she was looking at him as he spoke. "But I'm not gonna let you charge off into this alone, hear?" A brief memory came into Dante's mind from a few years ago. The vision was still fresh in his mind, though it had happened so far in the past. Vergil plunged down into the depths of Hell, slashing at Dante's hand as he reached out to try to save his brother. He had gone to find his father's power and defeat Mundus, Vergil said. He was never seen again after that day, and was most likely dead and rotting. _Like hell I'm gonna let that happen to anyone else again. _His eyes wandered past Mercy and Lori to see Andrea firmly parked on the couch, arms crossed over her chest and visibly reluctant to move. "Hey, kid. Somethin' wrong?" he asked with curiosity and slight concern.

"Forgive me if I don't share your enthusiasm," Andrea responded with a bitterly sarcastic tone. She shoved herself back even further into the cushions of the couch, as if to defend herself from anything said by the others. "Lucky for me, I learn quick. After the bullshit from last night and nearly dying of poison today, I'm smart enough to stay the fuck out of your way and leave the demon slaying to the professionals." She raised her hand to gesture down the hall, toward the door. "So, if you don't mind, I'm just gonna get up..." She pulled herself up from the couch and began to walk toward the back of the room. "...get the hell out of here, go back to my office and get back to my day job of catching guys cheating on their wives and busting script kiddies and con artists." She stopped in the hall for a moment, briefly turning her head so she could see Lori. "For Pete's sake, don't get yourself killed."

Lori placed a hand firmly down on the back of the couch, cleanly vaulting over it to avoid squeezing between Mercy and the chair to get out of the room. Once she landed, she headed over to Andrea and pulled her close with one arm, moving herself so they faced each other. "You be careful too, Chief," she replied to Andrea, her voice a bit softer than usual. Her arm slipped around Andrea's shoulder, allowing her hand to subtly cup one of Andrea's breasts. The other arm came around Andrea's back when Lori felt no resistance.

Before Andrea had the chance to leave, Dimitri approached her from across the room. "I'm afraid that it may not be so easy to forget about this, Andrea. That demon that attacked you was a servant of Spinel. He may already know that you killed that demon. If he does know this, your life could be in great danger." Dimitri pulled his glasses off, pulling out a cleaning cloth to wipe some smudges from the lenses.

Andrea turned to Dimitri with a skeptical eyebrow, raising a hand to gently push Lori away. "What the hell would this guy want with me? I'm a fuckin' human." She lifted her palms up in front of her, waving them out a bit as she continued to speak. "Alright, alright. I'm a bit messed up in the head, I can go batshit insane at the drop of a hat, and I'm a witch, but..." she trailed off, taking a slow breath. "...still. I'm a human. I'm not _that_ special."

Dimitri let out a slow sigh with a tinge of worry. "That was no ordinary demon you killed last night, Andrea. Spinel usually sends demons of that strength out to test any possible opponents. Lower-ranked demons can easily be slaughtered by a human with enough firepower." Dimitri briefly turned his head to Dante. "Dante is the opponent that Spinel would have had interest in. Killing that demon, as you did, requires supernatural ability that other humans simply do not possess."

"What's your point?" Andrea cut in once again, rather rudely. She scratched at the back of her neck before crossing her arms. "For once in your life, why don't you just get to the damn point instead of just rambling on and on like there's no tomorrow?" She let out an irate snort that made her nose visibly wrinkle. "I'm half expecting you to send me off to retrieve some magical artifact or kill a dragon or some other quest only I can do."

Dimitri was torn between chuckling and growing irritated at Andrea's constant impudence. "I was just about to get to that," he stated with a bit more imperation than usual in his voice. "The point is that Spinel now sees you as a genuine threat because of the power he suspects, and..." He swallowed rather hard, hesitating slightly before he continued speaking. "...I suspect you have." He managed to hide the sliver of a frown forming on his face. _I certainly hope we are both wrong, but at the same time...I hope I am right. Humanity may not have much time._

Andrea slowly raised an eyebrow, uncrossing her arms and resting a hand on her hip. "Eh, I just got lucky," she muttered passively, "I've gotten through life that way." She turned her head away from Dimitri, continuing to stare into the empty space that filled the hall. _Why the hell did you say that, __Andrea? Now something's definitely gonna get fucked up. It's not a good idea to tempt fate. You should know that better than anyone. _She wordlessly headed down the hall toward the office's door, stopping as she felt a hand rest on her shoulder.

"Hey, Chief," Lori addressed Andrea once she turned around, not removing her hand from her shoulder. "I'll gie ya a ride." The corner of her lips twitched a bit, a faint flash of concern in her eyes. "I mean..." She trailed off to gain a bit of breath. "I know ya think Dimitri's full o' rubbish...but I wouldn't take my chances." She paused to reach into her jacket and pull out a motorcycle key. "Whether or not he's right, there's bound to be trouble about." She held the key in her teeth and cracked her knuckles.

Andrea opened her mouth to speak, but quickly silenced herself. Had she blurted out what was on her mind at the moment, it would be quite hurtful to Lori. She averted her eyes from the taller black woman for a moment, taking a rather loud and deep breath. She turned her head back to Lori, walking closer to her and resting a hand on her shoulder. "Fuck it," she grunted with defeat, "Let's go." She walked past Lori and down the hall, opening the door out into the city streets.

Lori turned her head back toward Mercy and the others. "Well, ya 'eard 'er." She gave them a casual wave before turning to follow Andrea. "See you lot later." Turning away one last time, she headed out toward the Harley with the white chassis and Scottish flag decals on the back, upon which Andrea was leaning. She nodded briefly toward Andrea before twirling her keyring on a finger and straddling the bike seat.

The sound of a roaring Harley engine faded off into the white noise of the city, carrying the two women with it. They soon disappeared into traffic, among honking horns and citizens in a frenzied rush to return to work before the end of the lunch break.

Dante slid forward on the old green chair, extending his legs and stretching them out a bit before standing up. "I hope those two'll be alright out there. I've got this feeling in my gut that this is gonna turn into a lot more than your usual mission." As Dante finished his sentence, he brought a hand down to rest over his stomach; it was rumbling rather loudly. "Speaking of gut feelings, I'd better head back myself. I'm starving and there's a pizza in the fridge with my name on it." He walked with a marked swagger in his step, stopping briefly as he passed by Mercy. He flashed her a brief smirk and a wink. "Later, babe." He tipped his head in a nod at Dimitri before pulling open the door and walking out into the cool November midday.

"Well would ya take a gander at that," Mercy remarked, the edges of her lips turning up into a very brief smirk. "He knows how to use a door after all. They grow up so fast." She mimed wiping a single tear from her eye before walking over to the wall to face Dimitri. Her stone-sober expression returned as she turned her head to the hall. "Involvin' Dante is bad enough, but Andrea too? She's the last person I want Spinel to know about." She crossed her arms over her chest, as if shivering from some cold breeze. "For another person to go through that..." She caught her words tightly in her throat, going silent.

"I understand, Mercy," Dimitri replied with a considerate, but still serious, tone in his voice. "But this runs much deeper than your conflict with Spinel." He pulled himself away from the wall and walked around Mercy to face her from the other side, both of them keeping their eyes on one another. "The threat we are dealing with has grown too great for us to be thinking about personal grudges." He turned his head just a bit toward the hall, only enough for his gaze to follow it out. A brief silence broke up the words between him and Mercy as he appeared deeper in thought than usual. Mercy could not perceive it, but minute tremors ran through his body, mostly in his thin hands. He drew in a deep breath and shut his eyes, waiting for the tremors to pass. After a moment he slowly turned from Mercy, arms folded lightly over his abdomen. "Moreover, you are not alone in your desire for vengeance." He kept his back to her and his eyes out of her view. Slivers of gold could be seen glowing among the amber in his irises. "The only one who will die if you rush into battle against him is you. I trust, after ten years, you might have known that."

Mercy's fingers slowly twitched as her hands curled into fists. "Why didn't you...stop him before then?" Her lips were pressed so tightly together that they turned white. She could feel the coldness at her back even more, and it almost became bitter against her flesh. "Why didn't you..." She could not seem to finish her sentence through the trembling that coursed through her body. "B-before..." She broke her words with a yell, throwing herself at Dimitri's back with a fist raised to punch him.

Her body collided with a wall of energy that felt like it was made of solid concrete. She stumbled back a few steps, clenching her teeth and catching her breath as she looked up at Dimitri. _Bugger, that was a bad idea. _

Dimitri kept his arms crossed tightly over his stomach, still not turning to face Mercy. A faint flicker of indigo light faded from the air behind him. "Attacking me will not accomplish anything either." He finally turned his head back toward her, slowly removing his glasses and tucking them into his pocket. "I suppose you are too determined for words alone to sway you." He rotated his entire body to face her and folded his arms behind his back. "If you will hear nothing else I say, hear this. Spinel has no end of uses for you. Whether you are dead or alive makes no difference to him. Coming at him as you are, alone and unprepared, is like handing yourself over to him to use as he desires."

The color seemed to leave Mercy's face again, and she looked ill. The heavy feeling returned to her stomach, and the bitter cold seemed to have a firm grip on her spine. Her attention wasn't focused on Dimitri. She looked as if she was listening to someone else who wasn't there. The sounds of disembodied voices rumbled through her head, their words indiscriminate in the sea of thoughts and memories. One voice, one word, seemed to echo louder than the others:

_"Alice..."_


End file.
